Champagne Kisses. Zuri Day

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call later this morning and, if she’s up to it, go visit her tomorrow. If you haven’t already, remember to send flowers. Speaking of, who’s covering for Sharon while she recuperates?”

      “A temporary agency is sending someone to handle the day-to-day. But there’s so much going on with the international expansion. Dexter would normally pick up the slack, but he has his hands full with the cousins and developing the line for stocking their wine bars.”

      “Donald mentioned that these next couple weeks are very crucial for you, Donovan. All the more reason why your visit this morning, with so much going on, is a surprise.” After a companionable silence she continued, “What can I do for you, son?”

      Now that he was here, the speech that Donovan had rehearsed in his mind seemed lame and the idea that precipitated this talk even lamer. But his trusted assistant was in the hospital and his back was against the wall. After a fitful night’s sleep, he’d wavered in the decision to work with Marissa. As sound as the advice Jackson had given and Diamond had readily seconded was, Donovan knew that being around that cup of hot chocolate would be a major distraction, and, quite frankly, he wasn’t sure he could maintain professionalism instead of trying to take a few sips. So with one last bite of Grandmother Mary’s cinnamon roll for fortification, he began.

      “I need your help, Mom, professionally.”

      “Professionally?” Genevieve repeated with an arched brow as she set down her cup.

      “Yes. Our partners in Asia have a database of over ten thousand potential customers for our wines. Unfortunately, the data was input in Chinese and, while we have some software that will do the translation, we can’t download their file directly from their system to ours. The entries will have to be done manually. Aside from Sharon, Kathleen would have been the only person I could have trusted, but unfortunately Diamond had already promised her this week off.”

      “Your back is against the wall for sure, son. But how can I help?”

      “Mom,” he said, looking her in the eye. “I’d like your help with the international project.”

      “You’re asking me to be your assistant, Donovan? Inputting this data, these tens of thousands of companies?”

      Hearing it from his mother’s mouth, Donovan felt he had more of a chance of the First Lady coming to help him than Genevieve Drake. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But because of the information’s sensitivity, my options are sorely limited.”

      “You talked to your dad about this?”

      It was a fair question. Donovan talked to his dad about everything. “No.” Almost. “I thought there was no need to ask Dad without asking you first.”

      “Really?”

      Yeah, I don’t believe it either.

      “Because had you done so, you’d know that your father and I are handling some family business this week.”

      “What kind of family business?” Nothing happened with one Drake that the others didn’t know about.

      “With all of the activity surrounding your sister’s wedding, we hadn’t had time to tell you about this. But we’re finally going to divide up that property on my mother’s side. You know it’s going to be crazy with everybody trying to get their piece of the pie. I’d just as soon deed my part to whoever wants it just to keep the peace. But not my sister. She’s determined that some cousins, who weren’t on speaking terms with their great-aunt’s brother, won’t get so much as a teaspoon of dirt! She wants me to come down to support her.”

      Donovan sat back and rubbed his brow. The timing of this situation sucked.

      “Donovan, even if this trip weren’t planned, I’d be like a fish out of water in the office. Not to mention navigating the dynamic of your being my boss.”

      “I’d go easy on you.”

      “You’d have a choice?”

      “Ha! Guess not.”

      Donovan knew he was out of all options except one. And with that he picked up his cell and made a call.

      “Hello.”

      “Marissa, this is Donovan.” Okay, man. Here we go.

      Chapter 7

      She almost asked, “Donovan who?” Such was her surprise. But in Marissa’s world, there was only one. The one she’d been thinking of almost incessantly since yesterday. The one whose voice was the last one she’d imagined hearing today.

      “Hello.” And again, the type of silence between them that begged for a word…or a cricket chirp.

      “Yes, Marissa, do you have a minute?”

      I’m about to have a heart attack, but that wasn’t your question. She cleared her throat. “Yes. I’m glad you called, Donovan,” she said, determined to straighten her big-girl backbone and act like she’d known how to converse since the age of two. “I wanted to apologize for snapping at you after the rehearsal dinner. Diamond told me that your assistant, Sharon, had to have surgery, and I’m sure the news was stressful to you. I hope she’ll be doing better soon.”

      “Your apology is accepted, and I hope you’ll accept mine, as well. Stress is never a reason to be rude. I’m sorry for snapping back.”

      “So how is she?”

      “Doing better, thanks.” Marissa waited for further comment. She’d said what she wanted to say; now it was up to Donovan to say why he’d called. “Jackson gave me your number before he left.”

      “Oh.”

      “It’s work related,” Donovan quickly clarified.

      “Oh.”

      Amazing how the same word could be said in two totally different ways.

      Marissa heard Donovan chuckle, and the sound sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. Instantly, she realized two things. One, she hadn’t heard Donovan laugh before, and two, she really liked how it sounded: warm and deep, like the still waters she felt flowed beneath that professional, businesslike exterior he showed to the world.

      “That probably came out wrong. I just didn’t want you to get the impression that I was trying to hit on you.”

      “Okay,” Marissa said, drawing out the word.

      “This hole just keeps getting deeper, doesn’t it?”

      “You are kinda giving a shovel some competition.”

      “Then I’ll get to the point. Jackson said that the administrative workload at Boss Construction would be fairly light these next two weeks, and he volunteered you for a project I’m working on.”

      “I thought the mice were supposed to play when the boss was away.”

      “That’s usually the way it works. Perhaps when he gets back I can talk him into giving you an extra week’s vacation as compensation…along

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