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As Tyler left his office, Donovan’s thoughts returned to Rose. She would be a far better option than Whitley, but he’d have to offer her a proposal she couldn’t refuse.
* * *
“What did you think?” Iris skipped the more formal greeting when Rose answered her office phone later that afternoon.
Tread carefully. Rose sat at her desk at the law firm of Apple & Spencer LLC. She’d been dreading Iris’s call. She didn’t want to offend her sister, but Iris had been wrong. Donovan wasn’t fake boyfriend material.
“Van seems like a very nice person.” Rose looked away from the documents she was reviewing on her computer screen. “But I don’t think he’s the right man for this plan.”
There was a moment’s surprised silence before Iris responded. “Are you kidding me? Why not?”
“He’s a player.”
“No, he’s not.”
“Are you kidding me?” Rose’s eyebrows jumped toward her hairline. “It’s in his eyes. It’s in his smile. He’s just too charming.”
“Rosie, not every good-looking guy is a player.” Iris’s tone was gentle. “They’re not all like Ben.”
“I know.” Rose squeezed her eyes shut. Consciously, she knew that, but subconsciously, she was still suspicious. “I don’t want to take that risk.”
“What risk?”
Rose opened her eyes. Her attention landed on the black metal inbox on the far corner of her cognac cherrywood desk. She’d emptied her inbox when she’d arrived early this morning. When she’d returned from lunch, it was full again. Her black wire organizer on the opposite end of her desk already was stuffed with project folders. Her cases and workload were multiplying like rabbits.
“Flirting is second nature to men like Van. They probably don’t even realize they’re doing it. If I took him to the reunion, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from flirting with other women.” Rose rubbed her shoulder. Her gaze drifted to the matching cognac cherrywood bookcase on her left. It was swollen with reference books. Her certificates and awards hung nearby on the eggshell office walls.
“Van isn’t like that.” Iris’s voice was adamant. “He’s one of the good guys.”
“You’ve only known him for three months. Ben fooled me for two years.”
“Ty has known Van for seventeen years.”
Rose froze. “Did you tell Ty that I wanted to check out Van as a possible date for my reunion?”
“Of course not.” Iris seemed insulted by the question. “I’d never do that to you. And I’d slap you if you did something like that to me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Rose rubbed her right shoulder, trying to ease the tension building there.
“It’s all right.” Iris sighed. “Well, if Van’s off your list, do you want to meet Xavier?”
“No, thank you.” Xavier had just broken up with his girlfriend. This probably wasn’t a good time to ask him to pretend to be in love with her.
“Then what are you going to do?”
I wish I knew. “I guess I’ll have to ask Lil if she could recommend someone.”
“Good luck getting Lily to cooperate with your plan. Do you think she even knows anyone who fits your criteria?” Iris sounded dubious.
“I don’t know.” Rose frowned. “But I’m desperate.”
Lily would probably once again try to talk Rose into going to the reunion alone. That was something Rose was not going to do. She’d rather go to the reunion with Donovan “Heartthrob” Carroll than face Benjamin without a date. Unbidden, an image of Donovan came to mind. At least she’d have someone good to look at for the weekend.
Chapter 3 (#ulink_c887d5c3-4ebf-51df-acc3-2cd4d482d1ae)
“I can’t stay long, but I did want to ask you for a favor.” Rose smiled as Lily closed the door behind her Monday evening. Rose had called her sister as soon as she’d rung off with Iris that afternoon to ask if she could come by Lily’s house after work.
“If I can, I’d be happy to help you. You know that.” Lily kicked off her shoes before leading Rose down the hallway to her living room.
Rose took off her shoes and followed. She sank onto the powder blue love seat as Lily settled onto the near corner of the matching sofa.
“I found out Friday that Ben’s wife is pregnant.” Rose had given her explanation a lot of consideration on her forty-five-minute drive to Lily’s house.
“Oh, Rose. I’m so sorry.” Concern darkened Lily’s whiskey eyes. “I can understand how that would hurt.”
“Thank you.” Rose had never been comfortable expressing her feelings, but Lily’s caring made it easier. “I’d been uncomfortable about going to my reunion when I thought it was going to be just Ben and his wife. Now that I know his wife is pregnant, I’m even more uneasy.”
“What do you have to be uncomfortable about?” Lily tilted her head. “You’re not the one who was cheating on your fiancée for two years. Ben and his wife should be the ones who are uncomfortable.”
“I agree with what you’re saying, logically. But you know feelings aren’t always logical.” Rose wished she was more like Lily, calm and rational.
“I know.” Lily inclined her head, the image of grace and serenity. “That’s why we have to think before we act so we aren’t impulsive. That’s what you’re always telling Iris.”
Iris, the impetuous one.
Restless and impatient, Rose stood from the love seat to pace the living room. Her stocking feet sank into the plush, violet carpeting that Lily had had installed last year.
“I have thought about it, Lil.” Rose crossed from the love seat to the fireplace. “I’ve given it a lot of rational consideration, and I’ve decided that I want to hurt Ben. A lot.”
“I understand.” Lily’s voice carried from behind Rose, where she remained on the sofa. “When Ben hurt you, I wanted to hurt him a lot, too. But you’re going about it the wrong way.”
“You think the right way is going to the reunion alone?” Rose turned toward her sister. Irritation flooded her veins like an electrical current. “I’m after revenge, not a higher level of enlightenment.”
“How will showing up at the reunion with a fake date avenge you?” Lily’s voice was frustratingly calm.
“Not just any fake date—someone who’s more attractive, successful and intelligent than Ben.” Someone like Donovan, her mind whispered. Rose shook her head to banish the voice.
“But he’d be a fake. That doesn’t prove that you’re over Ben. That just proves that you’re creative.”
Rose didn’t appreciate her sister’s attempt at humor. “The Constant Classmates are pitying me. I don’t want to get the same looks and comments from the rest of my class.”
Lily shifted forward on the sofa. “Rosie, if you pander to other people’s reactions and judgments, you’ll exhaust yourself. Don’t follow other people. Be yourself.”
“I am being myself.” Rose paced away from the fireplace and back to the love seat. “It’s my own idea to get a fake fiancé.”
“Can you even hear yourself?” Lily seemed part amused, part frustrated. “You’re going to be yourself by doing something fake. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Not to you because you’re a confident person.” Rose leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees and linking her fingers together. “I used to be confident, too. Ben took that from me.”
“Then take it back.” Lily ran her fingers through her wavy, shoulder-length hair. Her movements were graceful. “I know Ben shook your self-confidence. Do you think it’s easy for me to see you like this?”
“I’d feel better if I could get even.”
“You’re giving Ben too much power.”
Rose expelled an impatient breath. She rubbed the knotted muscles in her right shoulder. “Lil, are you going to help me or not?”
Lily frowned her confusion. “What can I do?”
Rose hesitated. “Do you know any eligible men who might be willing to be my date for the reunion?”
Lily seemed to consider the question. Rose appreciated that. At least she didn’t dismiss Rose’s request immediately.
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.” Lily offered a smile. “The men I know are either in relationships or you don’t have to ask why they aren’t.”
“It sounds like we know a lot of the same men.” Rose’s tone was wry.
“Have you asked Iris?”
“She doesn’t know anyone suitable.” Donovan’s image taunted Rose.
Lily nodded. “You and I disagree on this fake date idea, but in the end I just want you to be happy. I want you to be Rosie again.”
Rose wanted the same thing. She wanted to get rid of this bitterness, anger and jealousy, and move on with her life. But how could she do that? What was the first step back to herself?
* * *
Donovan didn’t want to have this conversation again. However, it seemed that Cecil Lowell, the newest member of the Hope Homeless Shelter’s board of directors and the most junior member of the five-person legal subcommittee, didn’t have anything better to do.
“We already voted on this motion last week.” Donovan regarded the young banker. He drew a deep breath to hold on to his patience. The conference room in the shelter’s offices smelled as old and musty as the rest of the building.
The subcommittee had voted during its previous meeting, and presented their decision and reasoning to the entire board of directors. Now with the board’s support, they were preparing to move forward with their challenge to allowing a pawnshop to move into Hope Homeless Shelter’s neighborhood. Why did Cecil want to revisit that near-unanimous decision? Was it because he had been the only nay vote?
Donovan sat at the head of the honey-wood conference table. The other four subcommittee members—two women and two men—were on either side of the small, rectangular table. Cecil was on his immediate right.
“I know.” The flush on Cecil’s round cheeks almost matched his curly red hair. “But I’ve thought of some other things that we need to consider.”
“Like what?” Kim Lee, seated across from Cecil, had served on the board longer than Donovan. The retired university professor glanced at her silver watch. It was the only sign of her impatience.
“The reason we need a lawyer pro bono is because the shelter’s low on dollars.” Cecil glanced around the table as he spoke.
“That’s one of the reasons.” Salma Vargas propped her elbow on the table and balanced her pointed chin in the palm of her hand. The certified public accountant eyed Cecil with vague curiosity.
Cecil continued as though Salma hadn’t spoken. “If the city allows Public Pawn to open in our neighborhood, the owners could be persuaded to become regular donors. They could increase our fund-raising base.”
“You said you had something new to add,” Kim said, crossing her arms over her dark green blouse. “You said basically the same thing last week.”
Cecil shook his head. “I hadn’t suggested how we could use the extra money.”
“Your new proposal is that we ask the pawnshop owners to make regular contributions to the homeless shelters. Is that correct?” Medgar Lawrence’s brown eyes focused on Cecil seated beside him.
“Exactly.” Cecil seemed excited that someone understood his plan.
“I don’t think supporting homeless shelters is Public Pawn’s primary mission.” A few more creases lined Medgar’s dark, weathered brow as his frown deepened.
“We could at least ask them. There’s no harm in asking.” Cecil leaned forward on his seat.
“Medgar is right.” Donovan nodded his understanding of Medgar’s point. “Cecil, these are two separate issues. If Public Pawn’s owners wanted to support the shelter, they would already be donors. The other issue is that this committee has already voted to oppose the pawnshop locating here.”
Cecil glanced between Donovan and Medgar. “You don’t understand—”
“No, Cecil, you’re the one who’s confused.” Donovan turned to the younger man. “The subcommittee voted on this matter last Wednesday and presented our position to the board, who approved our decision. Now we’re moving forward.”
“All right.” Cecil threw up his hands. “I thought you’d want to hear different ideas.”
“We heard different ideas last Wednesday.” Donovan spoke slowly and clearly. “Now it’s time to act.”
“I agree. What’s our next step?”
Donovan inclined his head toward the accountant, acknowledging her support. “We need to find a lawyer who’ll take the case pro bono. I can’t stress that enough. The shelter doesn’t have the money for legal representation.”
Kim glanced around the table. “But we need someone who’s experienced with filing statements with the city.”
“I’ve already checked with a couple.” Medgar shook his head. “Neither one was interested. They said it was too many hours not to get paid. And a lot of those hours are spent following up with the city.”
“Can we offer some nominal fee?” Salma asked. “Maybe we could at least get a deep discount.”
Donovan looked around the table. “If it comes to that, we’ll see if someone will take the case for a modest fee.”
“A very modest fee.” Medgar held Donovan’s gaze. “If we sneeze in the wrong direction, our budget will end up in the red.”
Donovan pushed away from the conference table. “And remember, everyone, the clock’s still ticking. We need to find help fast.”
* * *
Donovan winced after his first sip of coffee Friday morning. He turned to Tyler, seated beside him in front of Xavier’s desk. “You call this coffee? Why bother?”
Tyler cradled his twenty-ounce, silver-and-black coffee mug between his palms like a day-old baby. “This is actually the way most humans drink coffee. We don’t usually use it to peel off the soles of our shoes.”
Donovan scowled into his coffee mug. He really could have used something stronger this morning. Worry about the shelter had kept him from sleeping, but unfortunately, he hadn’t gotten to the office early enough to make the first pot of java.
Xavier gave him a considering look. “How was your conversation with Whitley last night?”
Donovan drank more of the warm water masquerading as coffee. What were the chances it would taste better if he just added more grounds? “She’s not interested in the project.”
Although she had made it quite clear that she was interested in a physical relationship with him. If he’d been eighteen, he might have accepted her offer. Whitley Maxwell was a beautiful woman. At one point, he’d considered spending the rest of his life with her. But at thirty-six, Donovan was done playing games. He was looking for something more serious.
Tyler set his right ankle on his left knee. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”
