Surrender to a Donovan (Kimani Romance) (5 page)

“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

T
ate’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

“Y
ou 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?”

“What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ did you not understand?” she said in a burst of temper.

Reluctantly, Sean let his mouth clamp shut on his next retort and kept it that way until he’d parked in front of her apartment building. By the time he’d climbed out of the car and walked around to the passenger side, Tate was already out and pushing her seat back so she could reach the car seat.

“I’ll get her,” she said briskly.

“No,” Sean told her, taking her arm and moving her gently to the side. “I’ll take her in.”

She was angry, but Sean couldn’t tell if that was because he’d asked her too many questions or because of the subject of those questions. This marked the second time this evening he’d asked about Briana’s father and she’d clamped up with a frown that said this was a dangerous subject.

As he unsnapped the harness that held Briana in the car seat, he couldn’t help but stare down into her angelic face. What kind of man could walk away from her? At two years old, she was already beautiful, and Sean felt like he was suddenly falling head over heels for her. When he scooped her out of the seat, he held her close to his chest as he backed out of the car. Her scent was fresh and intoxicating. A scent he wasn’t familiar with but one he could quickly get used to. On instinct, he turned his face to her cheek and kissed her softly.

Behind him he heard the car door slam. By the time they came to the double glass doors that led to the lobby, Tate had come around to walk in front of him. She opened the door and held it for him. Her apartment was on the third floor, so she led the way to the elevators and pressed the button. On one shoulder she held Briana’s diaper bag. Her arms were folded across her chest—a chest that was more than ample, as he’d been treated to an irresistible view all night. He didn’t know the designer of her dress, because fashion wasn’t his thing. What he did know—no, correction, what he prayed—was that she had a closet full of them, because she looked great in it. When they stepped into the elevator, Sean couldn’t tell which one of these two had begun wrapping their fingers around his heart first, but he knew for a fact that he wasn’t finished with either one of them.

“Thank you,” she said tightly when they were once again inside her apartment. “It seems like I’m always saying that to you.”

“You don’t have to,” he told her when he stood in her living room. He’d noted she wasn’t big on furniture—not adult furniture, that is. There was no mistaking that a baby lived here, from the corner with her playpen to the opposite corner that held a bright green tub of toys. The living room was connected to the small dining area with its table and two chairs and high chair that held more stuffed toys.

“Which way is her room? I’ll put her to bed,” he asked.

“You don’t have to,” she said, mimicking him and then smiling at the coincidence. “I can take her from here.”

“Let’s try this again. I’d like to put Briana to bed, Tate. I’m not going to hurt her.”

Her questioning gaze kept him still, along with the fact that she hadn’t told him where Briana’s room was.

“What are you afraid of? That someone’s going to take her from you?”

“No!” she said quickly. “Her room’s this way.”

Sean walked behind her and entered another baby haven. From the Minnie Mouse border that stretched around the walls to the pretty pink canopy that covered the brown crib, he knew instantly that the child that lived in this room was loved.

“You have to change her first and put on her pajamas,” he heard her say.

Sean had never changed a baby in his life. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t do it. There was nothing he couldn’t do. That had been his mentality for so long that his fingers were already moving to remove the baby’s clothes before his mind knew what he was doing. Tate came up beside him, her soft perfume permeating the air, and Sean felt a clutching in his chest that was becoming all too familiar when he was around these two. She handed him a diaper.

“Tape’s on the sides. Place this one under the old one to avoid mistakes.”

“Mistakes?” he asked, looking at her.

She nodded.

“Oh yeah, mistakes.” He did as she said, placing the new paper beneath Briana’s bottom. He stripped the tape from the old diaper, removed it and fastened the new one in place. Painless, he thought with a smile to himself.

“Pajamas,” she said.

He took the pajamas out of her hand. They were lavender with yellow teddy bears. Cute, he thought as he slipped her feet inside first, then her arms. He was snapping it up the center when Tate reached over the crib and activated some sort of musical device. It was soft and low and sent reflections of slow-moving clouds along the ceiling of the canopy.

“She won’t stay asleep in the crib without hearing the music first,” Tate told him as she moved toward the door.

Sean stood there for a few more moments, looking down at the quietly sleeping baby. He could do this again, wanted to do this again.

“Goodnight, Sean,” Tate said from the doorway.

He cleared his throat and moved to the door. “She’s a wonderful child, Tate. You did good.”

She smiled. After a night of dodging his questions, looking worried and uncomfortable, she’d finally smiled.

And those dimples reached right inside Sean’s chest to grip his heart, fast and hard.

“She’s my best achievement,” she said finally.

“She’s pretty fantastic.”

He lifted a hand to her cheek and let it sit there as he stared at her. Words weren’t coming as fast as he would like, and that wasn’t normal for Sean. He always knew what he wanted to say and when he wanted to say it. But at this moment he didn’t.

“You should go,” she said, taking a step back so that his hand dropped from her face.

“What are you afraid of, Tate? Is it me? Or is it any man?”

“I’m not afraid of you or anyone else. I just don’t want what you do. I work for your company, and I’m grateful for this new opportunity you’re affording me. But that’s all there is between us. All there will ever be.”

Could such a cold blow come from a woman with such warm eyes and a mouth that had just been smiling at him? Obviously it could.

“So you’re afraid of getting involved with the boss?” he said, amending his question.

“I’m not afraid of anything,” she snapped.

“Really?”

He moved closer and she backed right into the hallway wall until there was nowhere else for her to go. Her arms shifted from her sides to a defensive stance folded over her chest. She took that stance often enough that he was beginning to read the warning signs. But they weren’t going to stop him, not this time. He pressed even closer. “Are you sure you’re not afraid of me? Of what I make you feel?” he whispered, lowering his face closer to hers.

“You don’t make me feel anything,” she said, but her breath was soft and airy.

“I don’t make you feel like you want to make love? Like you want my hands on your body, my lips on yours?”

She shook her head, her lips clamping tight as she swallowed.

“Prove it,” he said, touching his lips lightly to hers. “Prove you’re not afraid.”

His lips slid along hers once more.

“How?” she breathed against him.

“Kiss me. Just this once, Tate, kiss me.”

With slow, even strokes his tongue moved along her lower lip, touched the crease between and then swiped over her top lip.

“Sean,” she whispered.

And he took that as his cue. Delving deep and without remorse, his tongue touched hers in a scorching connection. His lips covered hers, his head slanted, hands grasping her shoulders. He kissed her like he’d never kissed any other woman in his life. Sinking, floating, sinking, drowning—that’s what it felt like to kiss Tate Dennison. She was pulling him in deeper even though her hands hadn’t touched him at all. Her head tilted opposite his, until her mouth was opening willingly, her tongue taking wantonly. And he indulged—damn did he indulge—in the sweetest torture he’d ever endured.

When her palms flattened against his chest, Sean pushed further, plunged deeper and was rewarded with her hungry moan as she pressed her body against his. He’d known it. And it wasn’t just his Donovan ego, which he was well aware that he possessed. No, this was true and honest desire. Tate wanted him as badly as he wanted her. She was proving that to him at this very moment.

Then she was pushing him away. Her palms pressed so hard against his chest that he was dazed for a few seconds.

“There. I proved it. Now you can go,” she said and slipped out of his grasp.

In a move that was most likely a disgrace to the men in his family, Sean stood there in a haze of thwarted desire. He couldn’t move, as his heart thumped against his chest. Then he gave himself a mental kick and headed for the front door, where she was already standing.

“I had a wonderful time tonight,” he said as he moved past her, close, but not close enough to touch. When he stood on the other side of the threshold, he turned to face her. “You had a good time, too. You can admit that tomorrow after you’ve had a chance to really think about it.”

“It’s just business between us, Sean. That’s all there can be,” she said adamantly.

But she refused to meet his gaze. And in that one act, she admitted more than he’d ever need her to say.

“There can be whatever we want. We’re both consenting adults. You just proved that. Good night, Tate.”

He was gone before she could respond.

And before either of them could realize they hadn’t been alone.

* * *

Tate had no idea what time it was when she heard Briana crying through the baby monitor for the second time that night. Throwing back the comforter, she decided she’d bring Briana into the bed with her for the duration of the night. Getting up every hour or so was going to make waking in the morning a task she didn’t want to deal with.

She was cooing when she scooped Briana into her arms. Pressing a cheek to her baby’s forehead, Tate checked for a fever. She’d done this twice already and was rewarded by the same result. No fever. Briana was dry and she’d had a bottle of milk the last time Tate had awakened with her. So all should be well. Still, her daughter had a steady whimper that was beginning to concern Tate.

“Maybe you’re getting another tooth,” Tate said, heading into her bedroom.

Briana’s head lay against her chest, whining as Tate slipped beneath the covers and lay back in her bed. She rocked Briana and hummed the lullaby that was on the mobile in her crib. And just when Briana had quieted and Tate was finally drifting off to sleep, the crash came.

It was loud and scared Tate right out of her sleep. She screamed, and Briana jumped and wailed. Glass shattered and Tate immediately reached for her cell phone. Punching 911 on the dial pad as quickly as she could, she kept Briana close and leaned to the side of the bed to collect her softball bat. It sounded as if it were the window in Briana’s room, but Tate wasn’t going to go and investigate. If she’d been alone she probably would have, but with her crying baby next to her, she wasn’t about to risk Briana’s safety.

“Someone’s breaking into my house,” she told the operator and rattled off her address.

Through the wall she heard cursing and furniture being knocked over. She held Briana tightly in one arm, the bat in the other hand. She was rocking and trying to soothe her child, when her own heart was hammering in her chest. Footsteps sounded in the small hallway, and Tate knew the intruder was now headed her way. With their safety in mind, she lay Briana in the center of the bed. It broke her heart to see her baby crying so loudly and hard enough to make her little cheeks turn red, but she couldn’t very well defend them both by sitting on the bed. She gripped the bat in both hands and walked slowly toward the door. When she was close enough, she locked it. Then she searched for something to put up against it.