Champagne Kisses (12 page)

“Did you change your mind about working today?” Donald said as soon as Donovan exited his vehicle. “We’ll wait on you if you’d like to grab your clubs and join us.”

Donovan reached the two men. “I thought Dexter was supposed to join you two this morning?” Donald gave him a look, one that Donovan interpreted as Dexter doing his usual, getting sidetracked by a pretty face. He laughed. “All right, I got it. And I appreciate the invite, but I’m working. I just have a bit of a problem I need help with.”

David and Donald were immediately all ears. They set their clubs down. “Do we need to go back inside?” Donald pointed toward the house. “Chef made a spinach frittata, and there’s still some left.”

“No, this needs to be a man-to-man conversation.”

“All right, son. Let’s walk down the path a bit.”

The men walked and Donovan talked: about his attraction to Marissa, her hesitancy in dating men in general and her adamancy and reasons for not crossing the professional line with him in particular. “Dexter was right,” he finished, having gone on for the better part of ten minutes. “What I’m feeling for Marissa isn’t like what I’ve had for other women. She’s different. I don’t want to disrespect her by going against her wishes, but I don’t want to take the chance of her getting away. I’m afraid that when Boss and Diamond get back from their trip, and she goes back to the construction company, that’ll be it. She won’t see me again.”

A look passed between David and Donald, and there was a twinkle in his eye as David spoke. “Sounds like the real thing, son,” he said simply.

“What?”

“You’re in love with her, boy. Any blind man can see that. Same as how I felt when I saw Mary all those years ago, doing the Lindy Hop at Small’s Paradise Club in Harlem.”

Donovan smiled at the reference; he’d heard the story of this famed meeting for the first time when he was about ten years old and he never tired of hearing it. The smile was short-lived. Being in love looked good on other people, but given the one time he’d totally given his heart to somebody, he didn’t think that he wore it too well.

“Look, Donovan.” It was Donald’s turn to add his two cents to the conversation. They’d neared a grove of full-grown palm trees that had been transported from Mexico and planted during the renovation. It formed a cove of sorts, as if it had been there for hundreds of years instead of barely one. Donald leaned against the tree, speaking casually, purposely, to try and calm his older son’s fears. “I’ll tell you like Daddy told me all those years ago when Genevieve was trying to act like she didn’t want to give me the time of day. He reminded me of how it was for us to break horses. You remember those summers with your cousins in Louisiana, how they’d coax that filly into warming up to them, nudging them bit by bit until they could saddle the mare?”

“Geez, Daddy,” Donovan said, the visuals conjured up from Donald’s words could almost make a black man blush. David, Jr., laughed, obviously enjoying Donovan’s rare show of discomfort.

“Son, you’ve got to saddle the filly before you can ride her, and you’ve got to ride her, make sure you fit, before you make her your own.” Sensing how hard this was for his son, Donald hid his smile behind a cough, sobered his face and continued, “How much longer is Marissa in the office?”

“Not long enough,” Donovan said, cursing what was usually one of his favorite holidays for showing up on the date it always did. He’d have gladly worked through it, but for the Drakes, the Fourth of July was a major holiday. Millions of dollars at stake or not, Genevieve had put her foot down and demanded he join the family for the annual festivities, their brunch at the very least. So, of course, he’d be there, and not demand that Marissa work while he did not. If he heeded his elders’ advice and they gave him the right answers, next week he might produce some fireworks of his own. “I know I’m treating her with kid gloves. It’s because I don’t want to hurt her. From the look in her eyes, I can see that she’s been through enough.”

“Then keep being the man that I’ve taught you to be. Gentle, courteous, thoughtful, kind. Find out what she needs and give it to her before she needs it. Remember to make her feel like a woman who’s worthy of your admiration and respect. You do all those things and you won’t have to worry about what will happen when Jackson gets back. Because whatever it is, you and her will be doing it together.”

“In the meantime, get her in the saddle,” Donald said with a chuckle as the men headed back up the path toward the house. “And before you go off with your wayward thinking, I’m talking about a real one. Take her riding, son. That trick has helped to wear down every filly that’s gotten caught in the Drake crosshairs.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, a more confident and completely determined Donovan strode back into the office. “Change of plans,” he said as soon as he reached Marissa’s desk. He didn’t even glance at the massive amount of paperwork next to her computer, or the single-minded way in which she was rapidly clicking keys. “You need to go get changed. Put on a pair of jeans, a casual top and closed toe shoes.”

“What’s going on?” Marissa asked, still typing, eyes on the screen.

“I’m getting ready to take you riding.”

Fingers stopped. Head snapped. Eyes widened. “As in on a horse?”

Unless you’d prefer another way,
Donovan thought. “Of course,” he said.

“I don’t know about that,” Marissa said slowly. The most she’d handled in the way of animals was Nippy, the family cocker spaniel. She’d loved him so much that they’d had a funeral, complete with procession and lights, when he’d died. Other than that, she’d never considered herself an animal lover. Aside from one grade-school outing, she’d never even visited the San Diego Zoo. “I’m not sure I’d like being on top of such a large animal.” She blushed at the inference and quickly added, “I mean, I’m not too good around furry things.”
Lord, please help me!

Donovan laughed out loud, and the deep rumble felt like a warm breeze over Marissa’s body. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he insisted. “You’ll be fine.”

“What about work?”

“This is work. I’m going to show you some more of the Drake property and then introduce you to a very special Drake wine. Besides, I’ve noticed how fast you type. You’ll whip through those stacks in no time.”

Once again, Marissa thought, Donovan had done the unexpected and once again she was flying all over the place, sort of like the wispy hair of a dandelion following a child’s heartfelt blow. “Who are you, Donovan Drake?” she asked under her breath, as she left to change clothes. “And what exactly are you doing to me?”

Chapter 18

T
en minutes later she was in the familiar golf cart, heading toward the house on the hill and then down the other side of it, to a piece of land she’d not seen before. The first thing she noticed was its tranquil beauty: a large expanse of green dotted with flowers, set against the backdrop of the coastal mountain range, embedded with boulders ranging from the size of apples to the size of cars. A large pond sat in the seat of a natural valley, and beyond it was a fenced-in area, encased with rough-hewn cedar planks secured with large nails and wires. At the very top of the slope, Donovan stopped the golf cart. They were silent as they looked out upon the massive expanse of land and profusion of colors.

And then she saw them. The horses, looking large and domineering even from this distance. Two were near a corner of the fence, facing each other as if in conversation. Another stood nearby, munching on grass. She turned her head and took in at least ten more, of various colors and in different poses. And then a rider in the distance, atop a horse whose coat was as black as night, its tail dancing behind him as he galloped across the field.

“This is beautiful,” Marissa said, surprising herself by meaning the horses, as well. “All of this is Drake property?”

Donovan nodded. “As far as your eye can see.” He started the cart and expertly navigated the uneven terrain until he came upon a barnlike structure next to the corral. They arrived at the same time as the horse and rider. The animal looked big from where she’d first seen him but here, up close and personal, he was huge! Marissa still thought he was beautiful. She also still believed that riding such a huge animal was, for her, a long shot.

“Let’s go,” Donovan said to her, hopping out of the cart as he spoke. The rider held up his hand in greeting.
“Hola, Diego,”
Donovan responded.
“Cómo estás, mi amigo?”

“Bien, señor,”
Diego responded.
“Pero estará muy caliente más tarde, sí?”

“Creo que si,”
Donovan replied.

Marissa almost groaned. She’d never heard a foreign language sound so sexy. And that Donovan spoke it effortlessly? Who knew? The man was full of surprises, and so far she’d liked them all.

“I think we’re in for a hot July and an even hotter August.” He reached for Marissa, who was standing behind him, away from the horse. “Marissa,” he said, gently guiding her forward by her elbow. “This is Diego, one of the finest horsemen in California. Diego, this is Boss’s assistant, Marissa. She’s helping me while he and my sister are gallivanting around the globe.”

“Nice to meet you,
señorita,
” Diego responded in heavily accented English. He offered a deeply tanned, calloused hand. The eyes in his weathered face were kind and the crow’s-feet that appeared when he smiled seemed well earned. “Are you here to ride the horses?”

“Sí,”
Donovan replied before Marissa could consider an alternate answer.

“Perhaps I saddle for her Miss America. She is gentle, will take her time.”

“Miss America?” Marissa queried despite her discomfort.

“Conceited little saddlebred,” Donovan explained. “A light bay beauty, and she knows it.”

“I don’t want to ride her,” Marissa said, shaking her head. “What if she takes off and I can’t stop it?”

Donovan gave Marissa a patient look, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth.

Wait, is he enjoying this?
“Is there something amusing about scaring me half to death?” she asked, forgetting her timidity.

“Don’t worry. You’ll ride with me,” he said in response. He still held her arm and now casually rubbed his hand up and down it. The shiver Marissa felt had nothing to do with fear. “You’ll be fine.” This was delivered in a voice low yet firm, full of quiet authority and complete reassurance at the same time.

He walked over to the black stallion, a horse that Marissa felt towered over her but for whom Donovan seemed a perfect match. She watched as the horse eyed the man approaching, noticed him bob his head as if in greeting. Donovan rubbed the horse’s nose and to her surprise began talking to him in Spanish. He rubbed his mane, then walked over to a bucket filled with carrots. He brought one over to the massive animal, who nibbled it right out of Donovan’s hand.

“What’s his name?” Marissa called out. For all her fear, there was something very likable about the big animals, something that seemed to draw her to them and become curious about their natures.

“Zephyr,” Donovan said, still stroking the horse. “Fast as the wind. But I think we’d best ride Sauvignon,” Donovan said to Diego, switching back to the horseman’s native tongue. “Wait here,” Donovan said to Marissa and then switched right back to Spanish as if he were a
vaquero verdadero…
a true Mexican cowboy.

The two men disappeared behind the wall of the barn and Marissa found herself alone, just her and Zephyr. The fence between them was a good five feet tall but it still seemed that the horse might be able to leap it with a good running start. They eyed each other warily, yet curiously, appearing to both take each other’s measure. Zephyr took a step forward. Marissa took a step back. “Look, I don’t want any trouble,” she said nervously. Then, remembering how Donovan had conversed with the equine, she added, “Nothing personal,” in a softer, kinder tone. “I’m just more comfortable when your kind is made of hard plastic and on a merry-go-round.” Zephyr slowly batted his eyes, nodded once and swished his tail. Marissa’s brow lifted in surprise.
Well, if I didn’t know better…I’d think you understood me!

While she was watching Zephyr turn and mosey down toward two gray horses, Donovan came back around the corner leading a horse not as tall as Zephyr but in its own way just as beautiful. Immediately she understood why its name was Sauvignon. Its coat was a shiny, coppery red with a stark white mane, tail and diamond-shaped spot just above its nose. Marissa seemed to know the horse at once. And she felt no fear.

As with Zephyr, Donovan kept up a running monologue (or was it a dialogue?) with Sauvignon in Spanish, and the horse waited patiently while Donovan placed a brightly colored blanket over its swayed back, followed by gripping what she’d later learn was the stirrup and cinch in his hand before lifting the saddle over the horse’s back and lightly placing it on the blanket. In the interim Diego had come from the barn with a red stair step, its once bright shade adorned with childishly painted flowers now faded and worn. Once Donovan was finished, he swung up on the horse as if it was something he did every day instead of only when his busy schedule allowed. He directed Diego to place the step near the horse.

“Come on, cowgirl,” he teased. “You’re going to ride behind me.”

Diego motioned her over. His smile, and the way Donovan’s solid body sat astride the horse, along with the thought that very soon she’d actually have a reason to hold on to him for dear life, propelled her forward. “Sauvignon, this is Marissa,” he cooed in the horse’s ear, while rubbing its thick, white mane. Diego did the same, in Spanish, and Marissa found herself murmuring
“hola”
as the horse stared wide-eyed and curious at the stranger approaching.

“Are you sure this can hold me?” she asked, looking pointedly at the stair step that had seen better days.

“You and me together,” Donovan assured her. “It’s held every Drake kid, cousin and childhood friend for almost three generations. Those flowers you see are Diamond’s handiwork from when she fancied herself an artist.”