Surrender to a Donovan (Kimani Romance) (4 page)

Chapter 5

H
e was only minutely surprised by her question. Candor came easily to this woman. She was polished and intelligent and confident, all traits he admired in a woman.

The fact that she was extremely attractive hadn’t escaped him either. Before he’d known it, his questions had taken a personal edge, and his interest in her had gone just beyond what might be appropriate.

“I have never been in love with a woman,” he told her and wondered what it was about her that made it so easy to be honest.

She nodded as if that was the answer she’d expected. “It’s an adventure, I’ll tell you that,” she said lightly.

Her eyes said something totally different. The deep depths said it was also painful. Whoever she’d been in love with had hurt her, badly. That thought made Sean angry.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked. Her eyes widened as if she thought the question was sudden or surprising. Sean didn’t think it was either. Whatever he did or said came after much thought on his part. He’d been thinking about this woman since first seeing her yesterday afternoon. For Sean, that meant something.

“Ah, no,” she began after a few seconds of blinking and staring at him in awe. “I don’t think that would be appropriate, considering we work together.”

He smiled. “You’re not going to get into trouble. I’m the boss, remember?”

Her smile came easily, and deep dimples in both her cheeks twinkled at him. “That’s precisely why I said dinner would be inappropriate.”

He could do nothing but nod. Her response was logical and most likely one he would have used himself if a female at the office had come on to him. But this was different. He didn’t know why specifically, he just knew that it was.

She was looking at her watch when he thought to say something else in response, so he said instead, “Am I keeping you from another engagement? Another dinner date perhaps?”

It hadn’t been established whether she was involved with someone. He wanted to know the answer, but then again he didn’t.

“I need to pick my daughter up from day care,” was her reply.

Her daughter, right. He’d forgotten she had a child. “Then let’s go,” he said, standing from his desk and retrieving his suit jacket from the back of his chair. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

She looked as if she were going to argue, then she stopped with a shrug and left the office.

* * *

The parking garage was accessed by taking an elevator to the lobby floor of the building and using an enclosed walkway. Tate always parked on the highest floor, afraid that the lower ones weren’t as protected from theft. Sean rode the elevator up to level four with her in silence, silence for which she was grateful.

There was so much going through her mind at the moment. His offer of a television show, his interest in her work, and, of course, him asking her out to dinner. Where had that come from? She had no clue. Before yesterday, she’d never seen this man in person. She’d heard of him and his family, of course, but she would have never guessed he’d heard of her in any capacity. Yes, her immediate supervisor seemed pleased with her work, and she’d assumed the growing number of letters signaled she was doing a good job. But she could never have imagined anything to the extent of this type of promotion.
Get a grip,
she told herself. Her life was a perfect example of how all good things did not necessarily have a positive outcome.

“My car’s this way,” she said when they stepped off the elevator.

Her voice echoed in the enclosed space, and she quickly closed her mouth. On the cement floor her heels clicked. Beside her Sean held what she thought were his own car keys. His brown suit hung over long, muscled limbs, and an intoxicating manly cologne tickled her nostrils. A better-looking specimen she had yet to see up close and personal, and a small part of her treasured the moment—even if it was a totally professional one.

“Nice car,” Sean said as they approached her midnight-blue Volvo.

She almost said she’d won it in the divorce settlement but figured that little tidbit of information was better kept a secret. “I like reliability,” she said.

He nodded. “I can relate to that. Where does your daughter go to day care?”

Retrieving her own set of keys, Tate initiated the automatic door locks and reached for the handle. “Little Darlings Day Care. It’s on Biscayne.”

She leaned into the car to place her purse and bag inside when she glimpsed the passenger-side window. “Damn it!” she cursed before remembering she wasn’t alone. Then on impulse she tried to right herself and banged her head on the interior roof of the car.

“Are you all right?” she could hear Sean asking from behind as his hands went to her hips.

She backed out of the car with Sean’s assistance. Her hand went to her now throbbing head. “Sorry. Yes, I’m fine. But my window is broken.”

“What window?”

She used her thumb to point toward the other side of her car as she started walking in that direction. Sean followed her and was once more privy to her cursing when she noted the back passenger window was also broken.

“Great. Just great,” she said, stepping on shattered glass.

Sean had pulled his cell phone from his pocket and was already talking to someone. Tate was lifting a hand to the door handle when she felt his strong fingers at her wrist.

“Don’t touch anything else. If it was a break-in, the police will need to dust for prints,” he told her.

“A break-in. Right,” she said. With a clutch in her chest, she leaned forward to look through the broken window.

Her gasp made Sean move in closer. “What’s wrong?”

With a hand to her throat, Tate said, “Briana’s car seat is gone. Who would break into a car to steal a baby’s car seat?”

“Come on,” Sean said, moving her away from the car. “Let’s stand over here and wait for the police.”

The police arrived in minutes and did what they called “processing the scene.” They took pictures and did something that would lift prints. Questions were fired at her left and right. “What’s missing?” “What time do you get to work?” “Do you get here the same time every day?” “Park in the same spot?” On and on and on it went until she wanted to scream.

She still needed to pick up Briana, and now her only mode of transportation was being detained. Sean insisted on having the windows fixed, and since she didn’t have the extra five hundred dollars—which was her insurance deductible—Tate didn’t refuse his offer. It was when he offered to take her to get Briana that she tensed a bit more.

“That’s not necessary. I can take a cab,” she told him.

He was already shaking his head. “You’re not taking a cab all the way down to Biscayne and then back to your house,” he said adamantly. “I’m having the car towed the minute the cops are finished. The windows should be fixed by tomorrow afternoon.”

“It’s not a big deal. I can take a cab tonight and then again in the morning to get to work,” she said, afraid to calculate the cost of doing both.
Infinity
paid her a decent salary for a writer, but that salary had to stretch to cover rent on her apartment and all the expenses that entailed, as well as day care and food for her and Briana. She wasn’t completely destitute, but there wasn’t a whole lot of breathing room within her budget. Still, the thought of her boss going out of his way like that just didn’t feel right to her.

“You’re not taking a cab, and that’s final,” he said in a tone that was supposed to emphasize his words.

It did, to an extent. Tate figured it was rude to continue to turn down his generosity, and that surely wouldn’t bode well as far as her new promotion. So she let the officers get her purse and bag out of the car as she stood across the garage waiting. When they were done and the tow truck had arrived, Sean gave the driver his business card and told him to have the auto-glass shop call him first thing tomorrow morning. She didn’t bristle too much—after all, the garage was a part of the building owned by the Donovans. If her car was vandalized on their property, he might feel responsible.

But when he ushered her to his metallic Mercedes CLS63 coupe, she sucked in a breath.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like my car?” he asked with a half smile that made her insides quiver.

She was shaking her head as he opened the passenger door and motioned for her to get in. “That’s not it,” she said, sliding into the leather seat. “I’m just trying to figure out how Briana’s going to sit in a backseat that’s not much bigger than her.”

* * *

So his car wasn’t equipped for a baby, Sean thought as he drove through rush-hour traffic downtown. That’s because he was a single man with no children. Still, that didn’t stop him from looking through his rearview mirror to the small backseat of the car every few minutes.

Tate hadn’t said another word after getting in and buckling her seatbelt. She wasn’t happy with the developments, he could tell. But there was no way around this. He wasn’t about to let her get a cab to the day care and then to her house. Despite the cost, he just wouldn’t have been able to sleep tonight knowing he’d watched her do such a thing. Especially since he had no other plans for tonight. There was no reason why he couldn’t take the time to pick up her daughter and drive them home. It was a simple act of kindness, he told himself repeatedly.

“You can pull in right here. I’ll just run in and get her,” Tate said when the yellow-and-white building became visible.

Sean did as she told him and pulled up close to the curb. “Do you need any help?” he asked.

She smiled before getting out. “No. I can handle this part on my own.”

He nodded, figuring she did this every day. For him, being at a day-care center was a totally different experience. Curious, he watched other parents coming out with toddlers in hand. Two mothers came out of the double swinging doors, one with a little boy who held on to his bottle, tipping his little head back to drink as he walked. The other woman had a daughter with her, a cute little girl with ribbons in her hair and a pink jacket. They would go home and have dinner…and then what? he wondered.

Minutes later Tate came through that very same door. Sean watched with a touch more curiosity than he had with the others. She held her baby in her arms and had a small pink backpack with bright green polka dots in her hand. The baby was the same pretty caramel complexion as Tate, with plump cheeks and smiling eyes that he could see more clearly as she came closer to the car.

Sean immediately got out and jogged around to the passenger side door. “We should have stopped by the store to get a car seat,” he said, opening the door for her once more.

“It’s okay, I have an extra one at home that I received as a baby shower gift. But for now the school has one they’re going to let me borrow. Could you just push this seat up so they can install it?”

“Sure,” he said as he pushed the seat upward. When he turned back around, there was an older woman with wire-rimmed glasses standing behind him, holding a car seat almost as big as she was.

“I’ll get that,” he told her. He was rewarded with a quick thank-you and smile, instead of the argument he probably would have received had Tate been the one holding the seat.

She wasn’t like other women he met who were accepting, and sometimes even demanding, when he offered them help. No, she seemed to challenge him at every turn. Sean, being the problem solver that he was, couldn’t help but wonder why.

The seat wasn’t as easy to install as he would have liked. Tate was right—his backseat was too small for a child’s car seat. Still, he got it positioned and buckled it in. When Tate leaned over to put her daughter into the seat, they both looked at the finished result.

“Her feet are cramped,” Sean said, seeing her tiny white shoes with pink-and-white laces slap immediately against the back of the seat.

“I’ll pull my seat up and she’ll be fine. My apartment’s only about ten minutes from here,” Tate said. “Thank you so much for doing this.”

Her words were probably the only thing that could have drawn his attention away from the baby, who looked so much like her mother, especially when she smiled and dimples creased her chubby little cheeks.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said sincerely. “We can swing by the store and purchase a new seat before I take you home.”

She was shaking her head before he could finish his sentence.

“I already have another seat.”

“But that’s your backup,” he heard himself saying as he went around to the driver side. She did say she had another seat; he should just let it go. But Sean knew he wouldn’t.

By the time he climbed back into the car and began driving, Tate was again telling him she didn’t need a car seat. Sean nodded, seemingly agreeing with her. But first thing tomorrow morning he knew he’d be in the store buying a car seat and a purple bunny to match the one on the pacifier Briana had in her mouth.

Chapter 6

“I
don’t want to sound redundant, but thank you,” Tate said when they were in her apartment and Briana was happily playing in her playpen.

Sean held up a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll send a car to pick you up tomorrow. What time do you need it to be here?”

“No, that’s not necessary.”

“Really, Tate. We seem to waste a lot of time with me making offers and you declining them. Now, you need to be at work tomorrow, especially since I’m going to try and arrange a meeting with Dion and Parker so we can go over ideas for your segment. And Briana needs to get safely to day care. So this is the best solution.”

His calm tone was what did it. Patrick used to argue with her like they were siblings or even bitter enemies. Tate remembered the first time she’d questioned his all-night business meetings. That argument had gotten so loud it had awakened Briana and almost had the neighbors calling the cops on them.

But Sean was calm, and his eyes were warm as they looked down at her. His voice was compassionate yet stern. He was not expecting an argument. And Tate decided, reluctantly, that she wasn’t going to give him one. “I appreciate that offer, Mr. Donovan.”

His smile was quick and potent to the point where she completely lost her breath.

“Call me Sean.”

Call her a doctor, because she was going to faint. Was he this sexy in the office? She wasn’t sure. But standing in her small living room, he looked like some kind of contemporary god in a designer suit. His bald head made him look intriguing, and the neatly trimmed goatee that framed his firm lips had her heart hammering in her chest.

“She seems like a very happy child,” he commented.

His voice interrupted thoughts that she shouldn’t have been having in the first place, and Tate had to clear her throat to get herself together. “Ah, yes. She is very happy. She’s everything to me.”

He nodded and walked to stand close to the playpen. Slipping his hands into his pockets, Tate watched as his jacket was pushed back, his muscled chest revealed slightly. But it wasn’t just the physical good looks he had. No, there was something else about this man that made him alluring.

“Where’s her father?”

Like a splash of cold water, his words settled over her, and Tate instantly tensed.

“He’s gone,” was all she said. “I should really get her dinner ready. We’re already behind with our nightly schedule.”

He didn’t turn away from her but bent down so that now he was even closer to Briana. Tate took a protective step closer.

“She likes to play,” he said when Briana had pulled herself up and was handing one of the many toys and rattles inside the playpen to Sean.

He took it and smiled down at her. Briana giggled and Tate felt something shifting inside her that she wasn’t happy with.

“Sean, at the risk of sounding rude,” she said, then she stopped when he turned to look up at her.

“Oh, no. You’re right. You have things to do.” He jiggled the rattle then returned it to Briana’s chubby grasp. His smile spread as he continued to look at her daughter.

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done. If there’s any way I can repay you for your generosity, just let me know. And if you could have the car here at seven, that will work just fine,” she said, heading to the door and opening it for him.

Sean stood and walked to the door, where she was now standing. For a few moments he simply looked at her. Then he nodded. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you at the office. I’ll give you a call if I’m able to arrange a meeting.”

Tate nodded. “That’s fine.”

He was already through the door when he turned back to her. “On second thought, there is something you can do to repay me.”

Tate almost sighed. She should have known it was too good to be true. All men wanted something eventually.

“What’s that?”

“Have dinner with me tomorrow night. And before you say it, I’ll take care of the babysitter issue.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but he reached out and pushed her chin up until her mouth closed.

“See you in the morning, Tate.”

* * *

“You need a what?” Regan uncrossed her long legs and leaned forward in the guest chair in Sean’s office the next morning.

“A babysitter. I need one of you to babysit for me,” he repeated himself even though he knew damned well she’d heard him the first time. Both of them had, but Lyra was staring at him quizzically as well. They were acting as if he’d spoken a foreign language.

“Just exactly who do you need a babysitter for?” Lyra asked next. Her voice was measurably lower than Regan’s, as her personality wasn’t as boisterous as his cousin’s.

He’d called them both to his office after he’d arrived, an hour late. It had taken him much longer than he’d anticipated to find a baby store and then to decide on which model car seat to purchase—despite Tate’s insistence that it wasn’t necessary. He’d had a courier pick the seat up about twenty minutes ago and take it to the garage where her car windows were being repaired. When she picked up Briana after work she’d have a brand new car seat and Briana would have a new stuffed animal. Sean wasn’t sure how pleased she’d be at his sneakiness, but he was feeling pretty damned good about it himself.

“I’m taking a woman out to dinner, and she’ll need a babysitter for her daughter,” he said quickly, so as not to give either of them time to interrupt.

As it was, both of them only stared at him. Regan began rubbing a finger over her chin, her slanted eyes becoming mere slits. Lyra had leaned forward, and two silver bangles slid down her slim arm as she lifted them and propped her chin on her fists.

“What? You’re looking at me like I’m some stranger,” he said when the staring thing was becoming beyond odd.

“We’re trying to figure out who you are and what you’ve done to the Sean we know and love,” Lyra said.

Regan shook her head, and hoop earrings the size of his hand smacked her cheeks. “No. I’m wondering who this woman is who has a child and can’t find her own babysitter.”

“She’s the staff writer who does the ‘Ask Jenny’ column. And the reason she’s not getting her own babysitter is because I told her I’d take care of it.”

“You, who does not have any children, will take care of finding a babysitter?” Regan asked. “And just how did you expect to do that?”

Lyra chuckled. “By calling us.”

Sean nodded to his sister-in-law and smiled. “Now, which one of you would like to help me out?”

“That depends,” Lyra said, sitting back in the chair and crossing her legs. “Is this a business dinner or a personal one?”

He’d known that was coming and was prepared to deal with it appropriately. “I want to talk to her about doing the television spot. I think my presentation will go over a lot better if we’re in a more comfortable setting.” He prayed they didn’t see through the lie. It wasn’t often that he lied to women, and lying to his family was even less frequent.

“You know there are babysitting services,” Regan offered.

“I don’t have time to research them and do background checks. Look, can I count on either one of you to help? Think of it as doing a favor for the company,” he implored.

He could have called his cousin, Trent Donovan, who was an ex–Navy SEAL and now owned his own private investigation agency, which did quick background checks. But that’s not what he wanted for Briana, not tonight. Sean wasn’t sure why it was so important that a member of his family keep her. He’d worry about that later.

Lyra gave Regan a knowing look. “We’ll both do it. What time?” she asked

“What?” Regan asked, turning to Lyra, who only continued to nod her head. Then, as if Regan finally caught on, she said, “Yeah, we’ll do it.”

“Great,” was Sean’s reply, even though he knew there was something behind their looks that he probably wasn’t going to like. Again, he’d deal with that later. “We’ll bring her to you at the Big House around seven,” he told them, making up the plans as he went.

His temples throbbed a bit at the impulsivity of this entire situation, but his heart hammered with the beginnings of excitement. When was the last time he’d felt this way about something that wasn’t totally business? He couldn’t remember. What he did know for a fact was that tonight’s dinner with Tate Dennison wasn’t all about
Infinity,
not by a long shot.

* * *

She’d agreed to go out with the boss. All day long, Tate had been thinking of what she’d gotten herself into. Or actually, what the person who’d tried to break into her car had gotten her into. Were it not for the shattered windows on her car and the missing car seat she wouldn’t be indebted to Sean and left with no other option but to go out with him tonight.

She didn’t want to go on a date with Sean Donovan.

If she spoke that aloud someone would think she was crazy. Especially Ashton, the receptionist on this floor, who thought the sun and moon both took their cues from the Donovan men that ran this magazine.

“Girl, I’d take either one of them any day of the week. Okay, well not Dion, since he’s already spoken for, and I actually like Lyra. But Sean and Parker are still fair game,” she’d told Tate one day at lunch.

Tate hadn’t really been interested in the conversation. She’d resolved not to dream or even hope about another involvement with a man—even if it was a Donovan. Ashton, on the other hand, couldn’t think of anything else.

“What about Savian?” she’d asked, just because he was the only Donovan man that frequented the magazine that wasn’t married and that Ashton hadn’t already mentioned.

She’d scrunched her face a little and Tate almost laughed. “He’s a little on the uptight side. But, you know what, he’s still fine, so I’d give him a try, too.”

They’d laughed about that and much of the other gossip Ashton had fed her that day. Gossip that Tate was glad her name had not been connected to—although that could have been a convenient deletion on Ashton’s part.

Tate knew Ashton wasn’t the only female who worked at the magazine who felt that way about this particular family of men. Hell, the family stretched all the way to the West Coast. That meant that most likely there were thousands of other women who felt the same way. And if this had been four years ago and she didn’t know what she knew now about relationships, Tate might have had those same stars in her eyes.

But it wasn’t. And she didn’t. At least she was going to convince herself that she didn’t.

In front of her office building she met O’Shea, the rotund Caucasian man with the balding head and cheerful laugh, who’d picked her and Briana up this morning. He was driving a town car, long and shining, almost like a limousine.

“Afternoon to ya, ma’am,” he spoke with an Irish accent that matched his piercing blue eyes. She was willing to bet that before his hair had turned snowy white and taken a permanent leave of absence it had been carrot-colored.

“Good afternoon,” she said, heading toward the back passenger door. She slipped inside and put her purse and bag on the seat next to her, and then did a double take.

“Where’s Briana’s car seat?” she asked as soon as O’Shea climbed into the front seat.

“Oh, took that back to your apartment just like Mr. Donovan told me to.”

“But how’s she going to get home?”

“He said to take you to the repair shop. That’s what I’m gonna do.”

O’Shea put the car in Drive, humming a tune to himself as Tate stared out the window, hating that she’d have to borrow the day care’s car seat again.

“How was your day?” O’Shea asked when it seemed he’d grown tired of humming the song.

“Great,” she murmured. “Just great.” Not very interested in idle chit-chat, she looked out the window, watching the city pass them by.

“Young, pretty woman like you should always have a great day,” he said, peeking at her through the rearview mirror.

“That’s not always how it goes,” was her bland reply.

“Do not work too hard,” he told her. “Take time to—what do you say…ah—smell the blossoms.”

His round head was nodding up and down with so much force his jaws shook. Tate couldn’t help but smile. He looked like the jovial grandfather little girls loved to visit. Which made her feel a pang of homesickness. Her mother had died when she was thirteen. She was raised by her father and grandfather, who were still alive and kicking, as far as she knew. They lived in a big old house on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. If she closed her eyes she could still see the porch with the weather-beaten siding and the front door with the lock that would grab hold of a key for dear life, coughing it out and releasing the latch only after a good fight. With a sigh, she sat back against the seat.

“Well, when someone shows me the blossoms in my life, I’ll take time to sniff them,” she said and felt a wave of pity that almost choked her.

Tate hated that feeling, hated feeling sorry for herself when she knew that ultimately she’d done what she thought was right. Everyone made mistakes, that’s what her mother used to tell her. It was what they learned from the mistakes that mattered. So what had she learned: not to trust another man with her heart ever again.

Pulling into the garage, she decided O’Shea didn’t really qualify as a man she shouldn’t trust, so she gave him a huge smile and thank-you for his services. It was when she went to tip him that he frowned.

“No. No. Keep your money. I just do my job,” he told her.

“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.