My father is a minister who a few years ago was asked to become senior pastor of a prominent church in Chicago. They live just outside the Windy City in a suburb called Naperville.”
Genevieve nodded. “I’ve heard of it, but have not been there. In fact, it’s been years since I’ve visited the Midwest, including Chicago. I do love their deep-dish pizza. Donovan, what was the name of the restaurant we visited, what, ten years ago?”
“I don’t remember, Mom. But speaking of food, Marissa and I were—”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” Genevieve went on. She did a surreptitious sweep of Marissa from head to toe. “Of course, with your stunning hourglass figure, you probably stay away from such calorie-laden treats.”
“Probably not as much as I should.”
“Hmm. I must say it is wonderful to talk with someone without having to look up continually. All of my children took after their father in that regard. What are you, five-three, four?”
“Okay, Mom. Let’s not continue this round of twenty questions.”
“How else does one get to know their guests?” Genevieve asked dryly with raised brow.
Marissa chuckled. “Really, Donovan. It’s okay.” Looking at Genevieve, she continued, “I understand completely. I’m five foot four and also the shortest one in my family, not counting my cousins or my nephew, who just turned two.”
“Ha!” Genevieve’s twinkling eyes signaled how much she was enjoying the conversation. “So you have siblings.”
“A brother, who is older than me. He and his family live in Baltimore, Maryland, where his wife is from.”
Donovan cleared his throat. Marissa hid another smile behind a sip of sparkling chardonnay, a Drake Wines favorite. Genevieve barreled on determinedly. “How do you know Diamond, dear?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure of really getting to know her yet. I work for Boss Wright as his executive assistant.”
“Really?” Genevieve didn’t try to hide her surprise or heightened interest. “How long have you worked for him?”
“Okay, Mom. I think that’s enough for one evening.”
“I’m simply curious that someone as beautiful as this young lady didn’t try and snap up one of the country’s most eligible bachelors for herself.” She turned still-sparkling eyes on Marissa and lowered her voice as if they were two longtime pals. “Or did you?” She winked, letting Marissa know that she was teasing, and continued talking, as if trying to get under her eldest son’s skin.
It was working.
Donovan didn’t think for one minute that his shrewd mother was joking. He believed he knew the questions his mother wasn’t asking: Had Marissa ever been interested in Jackson Wright? Had Jackson ever been interested in Marissa? Had Jackson and Marissa ever slept together? If so, why? If not, why? Was Donovan interested in Marissa? And if so, how fast could Genevieve do a background check?
“You know what they say about curiosity,” Donovan drawled, gently taking his mother’s shoulders and steering her away from Marissa. “It killed the cat.” He kissed her on the top of her head. “We’re going to check out the dessert buffet,” he offered, to keep his mother from feeling totally dismissed.
“Enjoy your evening,” Genevieve said over her shoulder to Marissa. “We’ll talk again.”
After Donovan had deposited Genevieve into the safe and capable hands of his father, Donald, he returned to where Marissa still stood. “Now you understand why I want to sample another vineyard’s wines.”
“Completely.”
“So what do you say? Inland Empire Winery, Rancho California Road, fifteen minutes?”
Marissa smiled, and gave a nod. “I’ll meet you there.”
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
