Champagne Kisses. Zuri DayЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Chapter 2

      Donovan watched Marissa wind her way through the crowd and over to where Jackson and Diamond stood. Later, he’d explain to his sis and brother-in-law-to-be why he didn’t make his proper goodbyes. Diamond would understand. As with the brothers, she too had borne the brunt of Genevieve’s desire to expand the clan and bounce grandchildren on her knee as soon as possible. One would think that with Diamond’s wedding on the horizon the pressure would have lessened. Instead, her impending nuptials had created the opposite effect, especially where he was concerned.

      “You’re the oldest,” Genevieve had chided the morning after Jackson proposed to Diamond. “I never thought I’d see the day where your sister beat you at anything.” Despite their competitive nature, this was one race Donovan had gladly lost to a sibling. He’d happily get beaten by Dexter, too, though hell would have probably frozen over and Armageddon made itself known before baby brother ended his Don Juan ways. In an attempt to throw off an undoubtedly still curious Genevieve from his trail, Donovan walked in the opposite direction as Marissa, joining his brother and the circle of female admirers that surrounded him. After another minute or two, he slipped out a side door, doubled back through the garden, around the infinity pool and into the parking lot. Bypassing his Mercedes—because if she noticed his car missing Detective Genevieve would undoubtedly ask what type of car Marissa owned—he walked the cobblestoned path to the company garage and settled into a company car. After retrieving the car keys that were always stowed in the overhead visor, he eased the Lexus hybrid out of the garage and was on his way.

      The night was cool and the stars bright and vibrant as he made his way down the private winding road of the Drake Resort before turning left onto Rancho California Road and the short drive to his destination. He reached the neighboring winery, with which the Drakes maintained a friendly rivalry; parked near the front; and, bypassing the restaurant, opted for the less formal tasting bar. On this, the Saturday before Valentine’s Day, it was only moderately crowded. The bartender greeted Donovan by name, served up a deep-bodied cabernet franc and placed a bowl of salty nuts and pretzels within easy reach. After allowing a moment for the wine to breathe, Donovan picked up the glass, swirled its contents and thought of Marissa Hayes.

      He’d noticed her the moment she’d arrived at the party. He’d seen the delicious smile she gave the valet as she exited her car and received her ticket. Donovan had been standing near the door, having just returned from escorting his great-grandfather—the family patriarch—from the north wing of the ten-thousand-square-foot home to where the festivities were being held. David Drake, Sr., a ninety-nine-year-young fountain of ever-spouting wisdom, whom everyone fondly called Papa Dee, had noticed her, too. His surprisingly clear eyes had gleamed with mischief when he said, “That’s a fine filly there, Donovan. An old man won’t fault you for abandoning me in favor of taking that youngling for a ride.” Donovan had laughed off the comment, but the short, stacked, brown bombshell rocking the forest-green, velvety-looking dress and stiletto heels had not only captured his attention, but she maintained it throughout the course of the evening.

      He knew who she was, had remembered her from a few months earlier and the gala that celebrated the official opening of Drake Wines Resort and Spa. That’s how Diamond had become acquainted with Jackson, when his construction company, Boss Construction, won the bid to transform the twenty-five-year-old facility. It had been totally renovated and expanded to include a boutique hotel with a separate honeymoon house on the hill, a stand-alone gift shop and wine store and a world-class spa offering everything from massages to mud baths along with a full-service salon. All of this sat on more than five hundred acres of rolling hills and sterling grapevines. It was set against the mountainous backdrop of Temecula, a perfect place for weddings and the site for his sister’s upcoming nuptials.

      His interest had been piqued that first time he’d seen Marissa, and he recalled the way his heart had clenched at the sight of her while something decidedly lower had also bobbed its amen. He remembered the way she’d offered a coy smile before glancing away from his intense gaze and how a jolt of electricity had accompanied their handshake. Most important he remembered the way that no matter how hard he tried all evening, he seemed to not be able to corner her; less than an hour into the party he’d found out she’d already left. Something about an upset stomach, Jackson had said. Upon finding out that she was gone, he’d shrugged off the attraction, hadn’t given her a second thought. Until tonight. But ever since he’d seen her tonight, he knew that her slipping through his fingers again was not an option. Not the way she was swinging that hair and wearing that dress, with a body so vivacious it should have come with a warning sign. Dangerous Curves Ahead.

      Donovan looked at his Rolex and then watched as the brother who was also at the bar finished his drink and passed a business card to the blonde seated between them before he walked out the door. The blonde turned to Donovan.

      “What a jerk,” she said as she tore the business card in half before offering him a flirty look. Donovan gave her an understanding smile before turning his chair to face the bar’s liquor-covered shelves. He was sympathetic but not interested. Not tonight anyway. It had now been twenty minutes since Marissa had promised to meet him in fifteen. Leaning back in the comfy bar chair, he took another slow, deliberate sip of wine. His mother had taught him that anything worth having was worth waiting for. Donovan Drake was nothing if not a patient man.

      * * *

      Marissa pulled into the parking lot, her heart thumping with excitement. It seemed forever ago that she’d even consider giving a man her phone number, let alone meeting one for a drink. Her employer, Jackson, and anyone else who knew her would consider the night’s actions quite unlike her. But there was something about Donovan Drake that seemed different from the average man, something that made her feel safe and protected. He exuded a type of authority that you could only be born with, yet had a way of making you feel comfortable in his presence. Oh, and there was that minor detail about him being very good-looking. Not in a pretty-boy way like Trey Songz or Boris Kodjoe, or even in a Dayum! sort of fashion like his tall, hunky brother, Dexter. No, Donovan’s good looks were as much from what was within as the package without.

      This is why she’d ignored the fact that at the moment, she wasn’t supposed to be interested in the opposite sex, that after the betrayal she’d endured from a so-called friend, work and continuing her education were the only two things that were supposed to have her attention. But the smile currently on her face had nothing to do with executive assistant work or landing a graduate degree in business administration, and everything to do with a tall, strapping male, one she’d thought of intermittently since being introduced to him months before. Then, as now, there had been nothing about the six-foot-tall, broad-shouldered sculpture of brown sugar that she hadn’t liked. Not his smoldering cocoa eyes, his juicy lips, his wide, thick eyebrows or that hint of a cleft that kissed the middle of a strong jawline. Nothing. This was probably why her heart raced as though she was on a first date. She felt she could fall in like with Donovan Drake very easily. She’d already fallen in lust.

      “Let’s