Zuri Day - Champagne Kisses

“Then how did you find me, Steven?”

“I wasn’t looking for you. Antonio’s band has a gig out this way. Not that it’s any of your business.” They continued eyeing each other a moment. “I see you still believe that bull those strangers told you.”

“That’s right. I still believe it. And I still meant what I said when it happened. If I have another confrontation with you, if you harass me in any way, I will get a restraining order.”

Steven shrugged. “You do whatever you feel you need to do. Handle your business, because I’m definitely going to handle mine.”

Marissa took a deep breath and tried another approach. “You know what, Steven? Somewhere inside you is a nice person. I knew him once. In fact, we used to be friends.”

“That good man is still right here,” Steven said with that boyish smile Marissa remembered. “In fact, that good man still wants to take our relationship to the next level. I’ve already seen you,” he said cockily, with a long, lascivious visual sweep of her body. “Might as well let me tap that—”

“That’s enough,” Marissa hissed between gritted teeth. She found the nerve of this former best friend infuriating. She wanted to lash out, curse him out. Remembering the darker moments of their shared history, she chose to stay calm and keep her wits about her.

And just in time, as it turned out.

“Which one of those jerks are you screwing?” Steven demanded, his brow creased in anger as he pointed toward the glass. “Which one did you offer on a silver platter what I couldn’t beg you out of? I told you I’d deal with whoever came between us.”

That’s right. He had told her, that last night they were together, the night that changed everything. It was why she hadn’t gone on a date in a very long time. It wasn’t worth putting a potential new friend at risk. The Steven McCain she’d known since college had been smart, funny and trustworthy. Or so she’d thought. Until that fateful night he’d tried to take their friendship to another level. By any means necessary. That’s when she’d begun to believe he might not be as nice as he’d seemed. Or as sane.

She looked from him to the window, saw Donovan glance at his watch. Dang it, I don’t even have Donovan’s cell phone number. But she had common sense, and she knew that to go in now, to get anywhere near Donovan, would not only result in an altercation, but would tell the lunatic standing in front of her more than he needed to know. Reluctantly, she turned back to her car. “Stay away from me, Steven,” she threw over her shoulder.

“My phone number is the same, Marissa, and you need to use it. Let’s get together, just to talk, I promise.” She kept on walking. “Remember I can blow the cover on that goody-two-shoes image you’re boasting.”

Marissa ignored him, got into her car, started the engine and sped away.

* * *

Donovan was getting just a bit antsy. Not at the fact that he might have been stood up, no, he’d seen the look of interest in Marissa’s eyes. And more than that, for some reason he felt she was a woman of her word. He definitely knew what the other type of woman looked like, the one who would say one thing and do another, the one who wouldn’t know the meaning of such words as honor, truth or integrity unless looked up in a dictionary. It had been a half hour since they’d parted. Should he entertain the remote possibility that she’d gotten into an accident? It seemed unlikely considering the short distance she would have traveled. Or could it be something much more likely, such as her having been sidetracked by someone at the party, like his mother?

Donovan’s eyes shifted from the window to the door, and he noticed the cocky-looking dude who’d been flirting with—translated, harassing—the cute blonde at the end of the bar watching a pair of taillights speed out of the parking lot. The man watched the car, a silver sporty number, as it turned onto the street, all the way until it was out of sight. Then he confidently walked to his black sedan and sped off, as well.

Donovan turned back to the bar and finished his wine. Then he reached for his phone and called his soon-to-be brother-in-law. “Boss, it’s Donovan. I’m looking for Marissa.”

“She’s not with you?”

“No. I thought she might have gotten sidetracked and was talking to either my mother or Diamond.”

“No, man, she left about fifteen, twenty minutes ago. She mentioned meeting you and told me she’d see me in the morning.”

An uncomfortable feeling came over Donovan as he turned back toward the parking lot. The scene he’d just witnessed replayed in his mind. “What kind of car does she drive?”

“A little two-door Honda Civic.”

“What color?”

“Silver, why?”

“Because I…never mind.”

“Donovan, wait—”

But he didn’t. Donovan ended the call, paid the tab and left the establishment. He’d bet money that it was Marissa’s car he’d seen leave the parking lot and figured that she knew the cocky dude no doubt now hot on her trail. The identity of the man was not important, nor did Donovan care what business Marissa had with him. The only thing that was important was the fact that she’d left without coming in to see him.

There was one thought on Donovan’s mind as he thanked the bartender who’d waved away his attempt to pay him. One thought as he exited the establishment, tightened his collar against the cool air and walked to his car. How could I have so misjudged her? He would have bet money that Marissa Hayes was not fickle or shallow like so many of the women Dexter dated, and totally unlike the last woman he’d trusted with his heart. He would have bet money, big money.

Yes, and you would have lost.

Chapter 3

Four months later

The private room at Grapevine, the upscale restaurant at Drake Wines Resort and Spa, bustled with activity. The excitement in the air was almost tangible. Waiters went to and from the kitchen carrying trays of succulent appetizers: truffle-infused macaroni and cheese balls, lamb-stuffed mushroom caps, salmon satays, vegetable kebabs, pecan-crusted shrimp on a stick and breaded parmesan artichoke hearts. Conversation flowed as smoothly as the wine. A mixture of instrumental music—jazz, classical and R & B—provided a nonintrusive backdrop, and the four-dozen guests enjoying the evening were as beautiful as the freshly cut calla lilies that graced each table’s centerpiece.

“You know what’s so amazing?” Jackson walked up to his soon-to-be brother-in-law and stood beside him. “She’s as beautiful a person on the inside as she is on the outside.”

A crease of frustration crossed Donovan’s brow. “Who?”

Jackson chuckled.

Instead of responding to the obvious taunt, Donovan turned his head away from the vixen across the room. If only his lower head would follow suit and stop twitching like a snake after a shiny red apple. Even though said “apple” filled out the back of the navy slacks she wore to perfection. He’d tried once before with Jackson’s executive assistant, the lovely Marissa Hayes, and while she’d finally explained why she’d arrived at the Inland Empire tasting room but hadn’t come inside, he’d still taken it as a sign to back off. He need look no further than his younger brother to see the kind of drama that could accompany an attractive woman. Dexter thrived on that type of foolishness. Donovan, not so much.

Which is why when he needed a particular itch scratched, there was a nice, widowed woman in San Diego to do the job. Straightforward, uncomplicated, that had been their arrangement. Each had grown-up needs, and neither was looking for more than physical fulfillment and occasional company. Or at least that’s how it had been until five months ago when Ms. Widowed had joined a dating website, met a man and moved to Cleveland. Donovan had intended to find a replacement, but the company’s latest project, a major expansion that would introduce high-end Drake Wines to an upscale Asian market and then, if successful, to the rest of the world had thrown his schedule into a tizzy and put Donovan into a prolonged period of unintended abstinence.