Tempting Fate, page 14
Knowing that Donovan was at least wil ing to meet her halfway gave Brooke the courage to face his chal enge.
"There's nothing you can possibly do that wil make any difference."
He rocked forward on the bal s of his feet, planting a swift, hard kiss against her firmly set lips. "Before I'm finished you'l not only be pleading for me to make love to you, Brooke Stirling, you'l also be begging me to marry you."
Incensed at the latent humor in his tone, Brooke jerked her head back. "I've already proposed to you once, Donovan,"
she flared. "What on earth makes you think I'd make a fool of myself again?"
He grinned down at her, appearing unperturbed by her sudden flash of temper. "The first time you brought the subject up, I had other things on my mind." He brushed his knuckles up her flushed cheek, leaving sparks on her skin.
"Believe me, sweetheart, this time you'l have my ful attention."
He turned on his heel, heading toward her office door. "By the way, the weatherman says this Indian summer is going to hold through the weekend.
How would you like to go on a picnic tomorrow?"
"I don't know if that's such a good idea."
As appealing as the prospect sounded, Brooke knew that to be al alone with Donovan, in some secluded wooded glen, could present a myriad of tempting situations. Several that she wasn't certain she was up to resisting, despite her brave words.
As if reading her mind, he winked knowingly. "Don't worry. I'l bring along a chaperon."
"Promise?"
He appeared affronted. "I have every intention of seducing you, Brooke. But that doesn't mean that I'd lie to you to achieve that goal." He gave her a dazzling, self-assured grin.
"I won't have to."
His dark head cleared the doorway a moment before the ledger book hit the frame. Glaring at the spot where he had stood so smugly only moments before, Brooke could hear Donovan's hearty chuckle as he strode jauntily down the hal .
NINE
To BROOKE S AMAZEMENT, Donovan actual y showed up on time at her apartment the fol owing morning. Opening the door, she greeted him with a rewarding smile.
"Good morning. Would you like a cup of coffee before we go?"
"Sorry, but I'd better not."
He appeared strangely distracted. Having spent an inor-dinate amount of time preparing for a simple Saturday picnic, Brooke had been expecting a compliment on her appearance. Instead, Donovan kept casting nervous glances back down the hal way.
"Donovan, are you al right?"
"Sure," he said, giving her a rather harried smile. "Are you ready to go?"
Brooke combed her fingers distractedly through her hair.
Something was very, very wrong. "Just let me turn off the coffeepot, and I wil be."
He clapped his hands together. "Great. Why don't I just wait downstairs in the parking lot?"
Brooke opened her mouth to ask Donovan how long he thought it was going to take her to switch off a simple kitchen appliance, but he was already jogging back down the hal way. Puzzled, she went into the kitchen, flipped the switch on the electric coffeemaker, rinsed out the Pyrex pot and put it in the dishwasher. Casting a quick, critical glance around the spotless kitchen, she left the apartment.
Brooke found Donovan in the parking lot, as promised, standing beside a blue and white van. "I don't believe it," she exclaimed as she viewed the familiar face peering at her from a captain's chair in the back of the van.
"I told you I was bringing along a chaperon."
"You certainly did," Brooke agreed. "But you conveniently forgot to mention that said chaperon just happened to be a two-hundred-pound goril a."
His brow furrowed. "I didn't think to ask if you'd mind. Do you?" 1
Brooke waggled a hel o with her fingers to Gloria. "Not at al . If nothing else, it'l give me a chance to catch up with what's happening on Hill Street Blues." She went to open the passenger door.
"Just one minute, lady," Donovan objected.
She glanced back over her shoulder. "Something wrong?"
"You haven't kissed me good morning."
"I know." She turned away again.
"Uh-uh." Donovan's touch was light but firm as he caught Brooke's shoulders and pul ed her into his arms. "Have I told you yet today that you look lovely?"
"No," she said, trying to keep the sulky tone from her voice.
His gaze moved from the top of her shiny dark hair, down over her russet cotton sweater and indigo jeans, to her feet, sensibly clad in running shoes. Donovan decided that as beautiful as Brooke appeared in those stylish suits and silk dresses she wore to work, he preferred her in casual clothing. She appeared softer. And worlds more approachable.
"Then I was decidedly remiss. You are beautiful."
His husky tone caused Brooke to pluck nervously at a nonexistent thread on the sleeve of her sweater. "Thank you."
"I was incredibly, miserably lonely last night. How about you?"
The warm, emerald glow of his eyes was heating her skin, belying the crisp September morning temperature. "I kept busy," she murmured, her attention riveted to a distant spot beyond his shoulder.
"Busy enough not to think about how your body warms to my touch?" He ran his palms down the back of her thighs.
'Were you able to keep from remembering how your pulse leaps when I touch you here?" His fingers brushed her breasts.
"And here?" He pressed his palm against her stomach. "And here?"
Brooke jerked away before the treacherous hand could move any lower. "You promised," she accused in a voice trembling with an uneasy blend of desire and anger.
"I promised to seduce you," he countered gruffly, tangling his fingers in her hair as he held her to a long, luxurious kiss.
Donovan's open mouth swal owed Brooke's words of protest, his tongue probing arrogantly, claiming the dark re-cesses behind her teeth. As a singeing heat surged through her veins, Brooke reminded herself that for the moment, she was safe. Donovan would never actual y attempt to make love to her here in the parking lot. And the van was already conveniently—or inconveniently, depending on one's point of view—occupied by a rather intimidating deterrent.
Since he obviously couldn't leave Gloria alone in the van in order to return to Brooke's apartment, she was free to al ow herself the pleasure of this single kiss. Her hands clung to the solid plane of his shoulders as she rose onto her toes, pressing her body against him, delighting in his resultant growl of masculine pleasure.
"I knew you couldn't deny it," he said final y, burying his lips in her hair.
"Deny what?" she murmured, distracted by the soft, rosy cloud fogging her mind.
"That with us, sex is inevitable."
At his smug, self-satisfied explanation, Brooke came crashing back to earth. "You cheated!"
He grinned down at her. "I never said I wouldn't cheat, sweetheart. If I recal , I only promised not to lie."
She shook her head with reluctant admiration for his ingenuous reasoning. "I don't know what I see in you, Donovan Kincaid."
He ran his hand down her back, causing a flutter of desire to skim along the delicate bones of her spine. "Don't you?"
Brooke looked past him at the goril a seated in the back seat. "Don't you think we'd better join your friend? Before she gets the notion to join us?"
"Good idea," Donovan agreed reluctantly. "Although she'd probably be content to sing along with Springsteen for a little longer."
Brooke's eyes narrowed as she focused on Gloria. A pair of earphones spanned the wide ebony head. "Springsteen?"
Donovan nodded. "She's had a crush on the guy ever since she accidental y caught one of his videos on the rock music station while flipping around the dial looking for a cop show."
"I refuse to believe that."
He lifted his right hand. "Honest. Stephanie thought it was kind of cute, so she bought Gloria a cassette player and a couple of tapes." He grimaced in a way that gave Brooke the distinct impression that he wasn't pul ing her leg, after al . "I pitched in for the earphones after listening to 'Born to Run'
for six straight hours."
"I'l say this for you, Donovan," Brooke remarked as she climbed into the front passenger seat of the van. "You certainly have more interesting friends than most of the men I've gone out with."
As he fastened his seat belt, Donovan arched a chal enging brow. "Most?"
Brooke laughed. "Al ," she admitted, watching as the great ape's head moved back and forth to the driving rock beat.
Gloria immediately sat up a little straighter, eyeing Brooke with renewed interest. "You bring new television?"
"Did you by any chance set this up?" Brooke asked Donovan suspiciously after he'd translated Gloria's opening question.
"Not at al . Gloria's been accusing me of neglecting her lately so I promised her an outing if it stayed sunny through the weekend. I thought you might enjoy a day in the country, as wel ."
When he appeared to be tel ing the truth, Brooke felt just the slightest bit guilty. "It'l definitely be different from the way I usual y spend my Saturdays."
"That's what I figured," he said simply.
A comfortable silence settled over the van as Donovan took the San Bernardino freeway out of town. Brooke noticed that Gloria, absorbed in the passing scenery, remained quietly in her seat, her goril a head bobbing in time to the music only she could hear. From time to time she engaged in a little back-seat driving, leaning forward to tap Donovan on the shoulder, signing for him to take an exit.
"She loves banana milk shakes," he explained to Brooke as Gloria indicated that she wouldn't object to a stop at a roadside Dairy Queen. "We'l stop on the way back," he informed the goril a, who appeared wil ing to accept that compromise.
"Where are we going?" Brooke asked, after they had been driving about thirty minutes.
"The col ege owns a ranch up in the hil country. They use it for retreats, things like that. I try to take Gloria up there at least once a month so that she can run free."
He looked up at the rearview mirror, smiling at the ape's reflection. "It's a real treat to watch her acting like a real goril a. And not some laboratory experiment."
Brooke glanced back at the goril a. At the moment she appeared engrossed in a child's picture book. "Bad," Gloria signed, holding the book up for Brooke's perusal. "Bad wolf.
Break house." She shook her head. "Poor pig," she signed dramatical y. "So sad."
"Actual y," Brooke said, after Donovan had translated for her, "I'd say you treat her a lot more like a pampered child than a laboratory experiment."
"That's what Serena says," he agreed conversational y.
"She's decided that I'm overcompensating with Gloria because I've never had any kids of my own."
That thought hadn't occurred to Brooke. Now that it did, she found it rather interesting to consider Donovan as a father. He certainly wouldn't be an orthodox one, she decided.
"Is there any truth to her accusation?"
He shrugged. "Serena's got kids on the mind these days."
"Oh?"
Gloria began drawing enthusiastic squiggles over the pages of her book with a pencil she had found on the floor of the van. Brooke decided not to interfere with the impromptu art session.
"Alex's best friend's wife gave birth to their first child in July, so he and Serena spent the latter half of the summer in Washington adoring Alex's reportedly bril iant godson. On top of that, Serena claims that as soon as she wins the Australian Open, she's planning to tie Alex to the bed until he provides her with an heir to the Lawrence tennis title."
"Does she intend to keep playing?"
Donovan changed lanes, weaving his way through the weekend traffic. "Obviously she'l have to take some time off while she's pregnant. Then she's got this master plan figured out that cal s for her to only accept tournaments scheduled during Alex's breaks. That way they can take the baby with them."
"They say travel is broadening for a child."
He nodded, flipping on the turn signal. "That's what they say, al right." He glanced over at her as they left the freeway, turning onto a two-lane highway. "What about you?"
"I've always enjoyed traveling," Brooke al owed, purposely misunderstanding his question.
Not taking the hint, Donovan pressed on. "I meant do you ever think about having kids?"
She took a sudden interest in the trees flashing by the passenger window. "Sometimes."
"And?"
Brooke reminded herself that the entire point of this new phase of their relationship was to al ow her and Donovan a chance to get to know each other. Recal ing how her lack of candor had contributed to their breakup, she decided to be open with her feelings.
"It's funny, when I was young, I didn't want any children.
I wanted to be free to live my own life without being tied down like my mother was."
Donovan nodded. "I can understand that. After al , yours was the first generation of women to real y be given a choice between motherhood and a career. I guess it was inevitable that not everyone would want to fol ow in their mothers'
footsteps."
"I suppose so," Brooke said. "And then, after I was married, it seemed that there was never time to even bring up the subject of a child. Let alone take care of one if we had decided to give parenthood a try."
"There are some distinct disadvantages to being a work-aholic," he said knowingly.
It was odd, but over the past year Donovan had found himself experiencing occasional yearnings for a family. Serena had steadfastly insisted that al the painting and fix-up work he had done to his house this past year was nothing more than a human version of nest preparation. He had laughed it off at the time, but since Brooke's return to Claremont, those vague feelings had crystal ized into a strong desire for a ful er life than that offered by his work.
"I know," Brooke agreed on a soft sigh. "I suppose if I hadn't been so set upon making a success of my career, I'd stil be married today."
"Surely your husband knew you intended to work when he married you." Donovan hated Brooke's former husband without even knowing the man. It was gal ing to think of some other man living with her, loving with her.
Brooke thought she detected a touch of anger in Donovan's tone. She wondered if she had said something to irritate him but a surreptitious glance at his profile revealed nothing.
"Peter thought he could change my mind. Unfortunately he and I had entirely different ideas of what we wanted our lives to be. He wanted a woman like his mother. Like my mother." „
"I see," Donovan murmured, unable to imagine any man desiring a clone of Carolyn Stirling for a wife. The woman was so frigid, so unfeeling, she'd undoubtedly create a layer of frost on the sheets.
Once again Brooke was left to wonder if she had only imagined Donovan's rough, half-angry tone. "Anyway, my work began taking more and more of the time Peter felt I should be spending to help advance his own career by giving parties, playing bridge, that sort of thing."
"I don't remember you playing bridge."
She wrinkled her nose. "If you were to ask Peter, he'd tel you that I don't. Despite his efforts to teach me the subtleties of the game, I proved to be a distinct disappointment."
Donovan reached across the smal space between their seats to take her hand. "Any man who'd be disappointed with you would have to be a damned fool."
Brooke looked down at their joined hands, wondering how such a casual touch could cause her heart to beat a little faster.
"Peter was a bril iant stockbroker. His family had known mine forever."
"So you married the guy in order to make al the relatives happy?"
"Not exactly." Brooke took a sudden interest in locating a radio station. Soon the soft sounds of a popular singer crooning a romantic bal ad fil ed the air. "I loved Peter," she insisted quietly. "I real y did."
Donovan wondered who Brooke was trying harder to convince—herself or him. But he remained silent, encouraging her to continue. The fact that Brooke was wil ing to share her past with him was a decided step forward.
"Everyone thought we had the perfect marriage." She moved her shoulders in a sad, little shrug. "That's what we wanted them to think. Heaven knows, if we'd put half as much time into working out our differences as we did to maintaining appearances, we might have made it work."
"Think so?" he asked with studied casualness.
"No," Brooke said on a soft, rippling sigh. "Not real y. Peter and I had different dreams. Contrary goals."
Failure. Even now, the cold, dark feeling flooded over her.
Brooke shook her head, fighting off lingering memories that she thought she had put behind her. Unaccustomed to personal defeat, Brooke couldn't help wondering if the fact that she had made a mess of two important relationships was proof that she was not meant to share her life with anyone.
"I never could live up to his expectations."
Donovan squeezed her fingers. "It was his loss."
As Brooke returned the pressure on her hand, she managed a half smile. "I don't remember this talent of yours for saying precisely the right thing."
He lifted their linked hands to his lips. "I'm only saying what I feel, Brooke."
She studied his face in silence. As his green eyes swept over her features, warming her skin, it was al she could do to keep her gaze level. She was relieved when the suspended moment passed and Donovan returned his attention to his driving.
"I believe we were discussing our lack of progeny," he stated offhandedly as he pul ed out to pass a slow-moving tractor.
His statement, while casual, carried the lingering weight of a command. Brooke figured that she'd gone this far, she might as wel continue.
"When Peter and I final y gave in to the inevitable and divorced, I'l admit to being relieved that we'd never had a child. If I'd had to carry al the burdens of being a single mother, along with my work, I'd probably be one of a faceless sea of accountants stuck behind a desk in some enormous, impersonal corporation."
"You've achieved a great deal in such a short time," he agreed quietly, wondering if Brooke was trying to explain that she had no desire for children.
