Champagne Kisses (21 page)

They reached the foyer. Donovan opened the closet door and pulled out jackets for him and Marissa.

“We’re going outside?”

Donovan chuckled as he looked at Marissa’s feet and then reached inside for a pair of closed-in shoes. “You ask too many questions, woman!”

“It’s after midnight, and it’s cold outside. I should be asking questions!”

He knelt down, placing her feet into her shoes while ducking the light punches she delivered to his shoulder. Once standing, he grabbed her butt and pulled her to him, lightly kissed her on the mouth and then gave a final smack to her now jacket-covered backside. “Let’s go.”

They stepped outside, and a burst of cold made Marissa pull the large jacket tighter. Donovan reached over for her, engulfing her small hand with his much larger one, entwining their fingers as he kissed her on the temple. She nestled into his warmth. With both the jacket and his body shielding her from the brunt of the wind, she looked out on the magical scene before her and actually began to appreciate their midnight rendezvous.

From the moment the lights were turned on Thanksgiving night, Drake Wines Resort and Spa had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Thousands of miniature white lights sparkled amid the pine boughs; not one tree was left untouched. A huge Christmas tree had been erected on the large open area between the hotel and the wine store, the tree trunks had been wrapped in bright red satin that was then secured by giant bows. Not to be outdone, the stars twinkled their approval and the sky was like a blanket of blue velvet. Marissa couldn’t remember a time when she’d been happier in her life.

They reached the fork in the road from the Drake estate. One path led toward the businesses, including the hotel, another toward the Papa Dee Suite on the hill. And yet another led back to a private area owned by the family. That was the direction that Donovan headed. They hadn’t gone far when Marissa heard something that stopped her in her tracks: a horse’s whinny.

“Are we going riding?” she squealed, clapping her hands together like a little girl. Of all the things in his world that Donovan had introduced her to, riding horses was probably her favorite. He taught her himself how to ride, a patient and thorough teacher. Normally she rode Miss America, the horse that Diego had recommended on her very first ride. But that didn’t sound like her.

“Which horse am I riding?” she asked. “Sauvignon?”

“You’ll see.”

They turned the corner and came upon a wooden enclosure. Here, away from the brighter lights of the Christmas decorations, it was darker. Donovan produced a flashlight from his pocket and illuminated the path in front of them. Now Marissa could clearly see there were two horses—Zephyr, who she’d know anywhere, and another one. With a bright red bow wrapped around it. She stopped, her mouth open in total surprise.

“Is this for me?” she whispered, loosening Donovan’s hand and walking toward the horse.

“It was planned as a Christmas present, but my contact was able to get her delivered earlier. I didn’t want to wait a month for you two to meet. Baby, here.” Donovan reached over and gave her a bag of apple slices. “Go make your acquaintance.”

Marissa smiled her thanks. Even in the subdued lighting she could see how beautiful the horse was; its rich, shiny coat was a tawny brown and it had a thick black mane to match the curious eyes now staring at her as if to say,
Do I belong to you?
Marissa’s steps were calm as was her breathing, done as Donovan had explained to her, so that the horse would recognize her calmness and feel the same. Stopping when she was just a foot or so away from it, she reached over and began to slowly stroke the horse’s side, talking softly as she did so. “Hello there, you beautiful girl. What a beautiful horse you are. Would you like an apple?” She held up the apple under the horse’s nose. It sniffed the slice, its eyes never leaving Marissa’s face, and slowly began to nibble. “There you go.” Tears filled her eyes as she petted the animal. It was such a thoughtful gift. She turned to Donovan. “Thank you.”

“She isn’t totally yours until you ride her,” he said softly. Knowing how jealous Zephyr could be, he’d gone over and fed the stallion a few carrots before coming over to stand next to Marissa.

“You want to ride now? Tonight?”

“Yes. And if it weren’t so cold, I’d want you to ride naked.”

“Ha! This isn’t Coventry and I am not Lady Godiva.”

“No, but you are a pretty sweet piece of chocolate.” He reached out and stroked her horse’s mane. “What are you going to name her?”

She looked at the horse and cocked her head in thought. “I don’t know. I’m going to have to think about that.” Walking over to him, she placed her arms around Donovan’s neck. “What did I do to deserve you?” she asked.

“Be born,” he replied simply before lowering his head to connect his lips with hers. Their tongues swirled in practiced rhythm. Feeling himself beginning to harden, Donovan broke the kiss. “Come on, there’s something I want to show you.”

After admiring the amazing soft and supple saddle that Donovan had given her along with the horse as her early Christmas presents, she readied the horse that was not yet named. They mounted the animals and set off in a comfortable pace toward Papa Dee’s Suite. “Isn’t someone there?” she asked.

“No,” Donovan said. “I booked it months ago, the day we drank the bottle of wine up on the mountain.”

Marissa’s brow rose as she glanced over at Donovan. “Sure of yourself much?”

Donovan shrugged. “No.” But he was smiling, “cheesing,” as his father would say.

They arrived at Papa Dee’s Suite, the house that had been built by Donovan’s great-great-grandfather, Nicodemus in the nineteenth century. Like the rest of the properties, it had been totally renovated, but Jackson and his crew had been careful to not change the integrity of what their ancestor had designed. They dismounted and, after throwing their reins over the original post, he walked the length of the long front porch and pulled a key from his pocket. “Are you ready?”

Marissa hesitated. Why, she didn’t know. She’d wanted to see Papa Dee’s Suite but it had always been occupied on her earlier visits. This was no surprise, considering the popularity of the resort as a wedding destination. She’d read the brochure, which included the home’s humble beginnings, had tried to imagine Donovan’s ancestor, Nicodemus laying plank upon plank and brick upon brick by the sweat of his brow with Mamie, his wife, cooking hearty stews in a cast iron pot hanging over the fireplace. She’d imagined also being lifted over the door’s threshold on her wedding night, had thought that that was when she’d lay eyes on the interior beyond her. Somehow, it felt awkward to go in now.

“I thought this suite was for newlyweds,” she finally said.

“Mostly,” Donovan replied. “But I have to let you in on a tradition, newly started by Jackson and my sister. You see, the average guest takes advantage of this home’s wonderful amenities after they get married. But in the Drake family’s unique fashion, we’ve chosen to sample its luxuries before we walk down the aisle.”

“Who are you planning to walk down the aisle with?” Marissa said, her face close to Donovan’s, her demeanor uncharacteristically sassy. “Since I’m not wearing a ring?”

“You’ve been hanging too much around Diamond,” Donovan murmured, not unpleased. He unlocked the door. “It’s bringing out your feisty side. But make no mistake, I’m still running things.” With that he swooped her up, causing a whoosh of air to escape from her lips. She wrapped her hands tightly around Donovan’s neck as he walked them over the threshold into a quaint, square living room that had been obviously renovated yet clearly maintained its original design. Gleaming hardwood floors, a pressed brick fireplace and silk-covered walls with a floral design immediately transported the guest back in time. A Victorian-style couch with curved wooden legs and deep burgundy velvet sat beneath the paned front window, a quilted throw at the ready to block out the chill. Topping off this seamless step back in time was the roaring fireplace with small logs crackling as they burned and fell to the charred remains below.

“It’s officially over, but Happy Thanksgiving, Marissa.” Donovan smiled.

“But when…how?” She turned around, taking in the room, including a bottle of champagne cooling in a silver bucket. “That’s why you left,” she continued, thinking back to earlier in the evening when, as the family sipped mugs of hot chocolate in the great room, Donovan had excused himself. He’d been gone for about half an hour.
Looks like somebody had been busy.

“This is the most amazing thing that anybody has ever done for me,” she said, tears in her eyes. “And I’m very thankful. I love you, Donovan.”
Oops? Did the three little words just come out of my mouth? Maybe I said it in my mind and thought I said it out loud.
But the big smile on Donovan’s face told another story.

“I’ll toast to that!” he said. He walked over to the table holding the champagne bucket. “You’re in for a treat,” he told her. “This is from the first batch of the new champagne that Dexter and Papa Dee produced. It’s an exclusive bottle, very expensive. It won’t even be sold in regular stores.”

“Oh! The Diamond!” Marissa laughed, feeling giddy that she would be one of the first to taste the bubbly that was her boyfriend’s sister’s namesake.

He uncorked the bottle and after pouring them each a flute he walked over and handed one to Marissa. “I had no idea that when this year started it would end this way, with a special woman by my side, and by me asking the most important question of my life.” He set down the glass.

As he began to kneel, Marissa began to tremble.
No! Is he going to…yes! He is!
She, too, set down her glass, continuing to look at Donovan with love in her eyes.

“Marissa Drake, I know we haven’t dated a long time. But Papa Dee says when it’s right, it don’t take long. And I believe this is right. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” she said before the last word had barely left his mouth. “Yes, yes, yes!” He stood then, capturing Marissa’s mouth in a bruising kiss, lapping up her love, drinking her in as though he could never get enough. When the kiss ended, they once again picked up their glasses.

“To you,” Donovan said simply.

“To us,” Marissa replied.

They kissed and drank and kissed some more. Champagne kisses, in fact, that would eventually lead to a lifetime of bubbly love.

* * * * *

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ISBN: 9781459241725

Copyright © 2012 by Zuri Day

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