Champagne Kisses (7 page)

“Sorry, Mom. It was a long today. I’m a bit tired, I guess.”

“Isn’t your boss on his honeymoon?”

“Yes, and while he’s away, I’m working on a special assignment with his wife’s brother.”

“Marissa Lynn, if this work is making you unhappy, perhaps you should just walk away.”

That the work was fine and the boss was the problem was a fact Marissa chose not to divulge. “I’ll be fine, Mom. A good night’s sleep will work wonders. Speaking of, isn’t it a little late for you to call?”

“I just finished talking to your brother, Timothy. He and Nicole are expecting another baby!”

“That’s great, Mom.” Great. Really. Just what she needed. Again, she loved her brother and would get around to being genuinely happy about his news. But tonight it was a reminder of milestones she had not reached—marriage and motherhood.

“Your father and I are ecstatic at having a second grandchild. There’s only one thing that would make me happier.”

Uh-oh. That’s my cue.
“Look, Mom. Hate to cut you off but I’m back at the resort and need to unload my trunk.”

“Resort? Why are you staying at a resort?”

Just what she hadn’t meant to do; make her mother even more curious about her life than she was already. “Remember I told you that Jackson’s wife’s family owns a resort? That’s where I’m working. To save time in driving back and forth, I’m staying here while working on the project.”

“That sounds wonderful, baby! So tell me this. Is this brother you’re working with married and, if not, is he a prospect? You’re not getting any younger, Marissa, and while I’d always hoped that your and Steven’s relationship would have blossomed into something romantic, you need to think of your future.”

Marissa wheeled her car into a parking space. “I’ll call you this weekend, Mom.” She ended the call. By the time she entered her room with multiple shopping bags in tow, a smoldering sadness had replaced the previous anger brought on by Donovan’s actions and an unexplainable weariness had seeped into her pores. While hanging up the purchases that a short time ago had brought joy, two major questions plagued her:
How did I get here and where am I going?

The first question was the easiest. After graduating college and armed with a bachelor’s in business administration, Marissa had been more than happy to take up Steven’s offer and get a job at the large technology firm where he was employed. This time in her life had been great: getting promoted to junior management, becoming engaged to the man she thought would become her husband and Steven continuing to be her best bud. But then, in the blink of an eye, her life unraveled. She found out her boyfriend turned/fiancé that she’d dated for four years had one child who was three and another who’d just turned two (bad math in anybody’s relationship classroom). Her best friend betrayed her and, as a result, she had to leave the job she loved. Enter Jackson Wright, who needed an assistant when she desperately needed a job. She didn’t think twice about taking what most would consider a demotion, feeling instantly at home and protected at Boss Construction, surrounded by rugged men who quickly became loyal friends. Without providing details, Jackson had perceived Marissa’s vulnerability. After working there awhile, Jackson gained her trust, and she confided to him what Steven had done. After that, she was sure he’d warned his guys off of her because in all the time she’d worked for him, the men had treated her with nothing but respect. Her gratitude was evident in the tireless way she worked, throwing herself lock, stock and barrel into becoming the best executive assistant on the planet; she was thankful for the diversion that served to keep the bad thoughts at bay. Except on nights like tonight when she was fully aware of the facts: she was twenty-nine and counting, unwed with no prospects while many of her college associates were on marriage number two and baby number three.

It was also on nights like these that she wished she’d worked harder on making friends during her high school and college years. But she’d always been a bit of a loner. On her first day at college she’d met Steven, the gregarious, rambunctious ball of energy who was the night to her day, who’d been all the friend she’d needed to navigate the next several years. On that first day of their friendship’s beginning, she could never have imagined how it would end. Marissa shook her head to bring her out of those unfortunate musings.

There was the matter of the second question: Where was she going? As Marissa climbed into bed the only thing she knew for sure was that the foreseeable future—at least the next several days—were going to be spent at Drake Wines Resort and Spa working alongside Donovan Drake. Considering what she’d been through and the drama she’d navigated, surely she could handle him. She went to sleep determined to find the high road with this temporary assignment, take it and then run back to her safe haven at Boss Construction, where hard work was valued and the workday wasn’t sandwiched between nine and five. That’s what she thought as she went to sleep, but in her dreams, once again, her cavorting with Donovan had nothing to do with the workplace and everything to do with the bedroom.

Chapter 10

“G
ood morning!” Marissa’s voice rivaled that of a bluebird announcing the dawning of a new day. She’d gotten up bright and early, exulted in a long, hot shower, curled her hair, dressed in her new casually fun sundress and flat sandals and eaten a scrumptious breakfast akin to that of a boxer the day of a fight. Though she’d tossed and turned much of the night, she was no less determined to put her best foot forward and have a great day. Even if it killed her.

Donovan stood at the entrance to the storage room, taking in her attire.
Good morning? Says who?
“I thought we’d agreed to dress casual?”

This from a man who stood in tailored black slacks, a starched tan shirt, striped tie and—if Marissa were not mistaken—a recently groomed goatee?

“This is casual,” she replied. “Besides, my mother always said that looking good is feeling good. How are you feeling today?”
Because you’re looking as tasty as this morning’s French toast.

With almost no sleep and his waking hours filled with thoughts of the vixen in front of him, he was feeling about as cheerful as a grizzly. But he figured there was no need to show his hand. “I’m good,” he said with a curt nod. And then with barely a breath he continued, “We’ve got a lot to do today. Meet me in my office in half an hour and we’ll get you started on today’s input.”

“But what about these files?”

“They can wait. A half hour. Don’t be late.”

It wasn’t until she’d slammed down the fifth manila folder onto the pile, sending the folders beneath it scattering in different directions, that Marissa realized that once again, Donovan was sticking in her proverbial craw. “It’s ridiculous,” she muttered, kneeling down to pick up the strewn papers and errant sticky posts. Absolutely insane. The fact that she’d ever thought the man who was now her merciless tormentor was either attractive or intelligent was impossible to believe. Even now she was as angry with herself as with him for the fact that her heart had quickened in his very presence and that it may have even skipped a beat. And then he’d opened his mouth. “You try and do a great job, try and be nice, and what do you get? Total ungratefulness,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “And about as much personality as a resident of the wax museum.”

“Good morning!”

Marissa inwardly grimaced at the sound in the doorway, and prayed that her mumbling hadn’t been overheard. “Good morning, Dexter.” She turned to greet him before hurrying back to her task.

“You know what they say,” Dexter continued casually as he strolled into the room. “People who talk to themselves either wish to converse with a highly intelligent audience…or have a screw loose.”

“Ha!” Marissa relaxed even as she noted how different the two brothers were. Where Donovan was reserved, Dexter was flamboyant and devil-may-care. Where Donovan seemed to take every moment of life seriously, Dexter seemed to tease fate, living each moment as if it were his last. And while Marissa appreciated his endless party lifestyle, she also knew that dating such an individual would drive her crazy. “I’m probably guilty of a little of both.”

“I thought I saw you last night. And then Donovan told me that you were helping him with our international expansion into the Asian market.”

The frown jumped on her face before she could stop it. “Yes, well…”

“A little trouble in paradise or, in this case, the vineyard?” When Marissa didn’t answer, Dexter walked to the door and pushed it closed. “We’re practically family, Marissa. You can talk to me.”

Marissa sighed as she leaned against the large filing cabinet. A part of her wanted no part of voicing her thoughts out loud; the other part relished a second opinion. “I’m not quite sure whether your brother and I are very different or too much alike. Either way, we sort of got off on the wrong foot.” Marissa told Dexter about the night of the engagement party and how she’d not met Donovan as they’d initially planned. She left out the part about Steven’s participation, hidden behind the more general “something came up.”

Dexter listened intently, arms crossed, pose casual as he leaned against the wall. “Let me tell you something about my brother,” he said once she’d finished. “He’s the serious one of the siblings, a ‘strictly business’ kind of guy. But he’s a good man, too, who can be very focused when it comes to something he wants or cares about.”

“Look, I know how important this project is to him and to your company. He’s made me very aware of how confidential it is, how critical it is to this next phase in your business plan, all of that. I understand that, and I’ve told him that while I know I can’t take Sharon’s place, I will do my very best to pick up the slack in her absence.”

“I have no doubt that you will,” Dexter said, raising off the wall and heading toward the door. “But when it comes to what Donovan wants, I’m not talking about a job well done. I’m talking about you.”

“What?” Marissa sprang forward from leaning against the file cabinet, her back becoming ramrod straight.

Dexter chuckled. “You heard me. My brother is digging you. And from your reaction, I’d say the feeling is mutual.”

By the time Marissa got her mouth working, Dexter’s whistle could be heard down the hall.

Chapter 11

T
hank goodness for Chad Witter, owner of Data Design and Solutions. He was the angel Marissa found seated in Donovan’s office when she arrived there a full five minutes before his be-there-in-half-an-hour-don’t-be-late command. At least she wouldn’t have to be alone with Donovan.

Dexter’s parting comments had left her reeling, and wondering. Was Dexter speculating when it came to his brother’s feelings about her? And why had he assumed she had feelings for Donovan when she hadn’t even acknowledged those feelings to herself? All of these questions and speculations she hid behind a shield of complete professionalism: asking the right questions, nodding in the appropriate places. But what was really on her mind was Dexter’s comment:
he’s digging you.
That and images from her dream last night—she and Donovan together, quite alone and quite naked, on the hilltop in the moonlight. Their bodies, sweaty, entwined in the throes of passion. His tongue searching, capturing, devouring. His lips, those lips, those lips moving and talking and…

“Marissa?”

“Oh, sorry, Donovan. I was pondering what Chad just said.”

A quick look passed between Chad and Donovan. “It normally doesn’t take much thought to answer where one graduated college,” Donovan said, his voice laced with humor. “Although understandable that some of us want to forget about those campus days.”

Busted.
But Marissa put her 3.8 GPA to use and recovered in a bat of an eyelash. “Forgive me. I’m still thinking about the translation and formatting component to this software, Chad, and ways that by tweaking the columns, this could possibly be used in the categorizing of wines, as well, specifically the new inventory against the present selections, and the exclusive ones developed for the wine bars. It would streamline the entire inventory process, cataloguing by type, year, whatever details are important. I’m sorry,” she said when she realized she was going on and on. She switched her attention from Chad to Donovan. “I know my work here is limited primarily to the customer base, but in my mind, it’s an obvious parallel.”

“No apology needed,” Donovan replied, a flicker of new awareness and admiration in his eyes as he slowly stroked his goatee. From the moment he’d met Marissa she’d seemed to be a study in contradictions. Sort of like an onion, with layer after layer to peel away. But if there was any place that he was certain they could have a fairly innocuous meeting of the minds, it was around business. This was, after all, the only reason she was here, right? Donovan determined at that moment that he wanted to peel back the various veneers to the mystery woman seated near him. And he wanted to start tonight.

After another hour, the meeting with Chad wrapped up. “Thanks for everything,” Donovan said as he stood, signaling the end of the discussion. Marissa stood, as well.

“No problem, buddy,” Chad replied, putting his minicomputer and papers into his briefcase and then joining Marissa and Donovan near the center of the office. “I’m just happy to see our product do what it is supposed to do and that is make our customers’ lives easier and their work more streamlined.” He turned to Marissa. “It was my pleasure to meet you,” he continued, his hand outstretched. “If there is anything that you need, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to contact our office.” He held her hand in his, his blue eyes sparkling with open admiration. Marissa smiled back, genuinely impressed with the products Chad and his company had developed.

But somebody wasn’t a fan of this mutual admiration society. “Yes,” Donovan said, his voice authoritative as he reached out his hand. “I’ll call you if we need anything. Good seeing you again, Chad.”

Marissa’s brow rose ever so slightly.
Can we say dismissed?