“The board voted against electing a new president.” The relief in Donovan’s voice was palpable.
“You’re still president?” Rose was almost afraid to ask.
“I’m still president.”
“I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!” Rose sprang from her black leather sofa. She jumped up and down, shouting with joy. “Oh, my word. That’s fantastic. Congratulations!”
Donovan’s chuckles grew into laughter—full, deep and appreciative. “Thank you.”
“Tell me everything.” Relief made Rose’s muscles weak. She collapsed back onto her sofa, listening intently while Donovan gave her an overview of the debate between him and Cecil.
“That would have been the perfect time to bow out of your position and just let Cecil take over.”
“Yes, I guess it would have been.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think I do.”
“Do you think you know me, Ms. Beharie, after only two months?” Donovan teased. The amusement in his voice sent shivers of pleasure up and down Rose’s spine.
“I wouldn’t go that far. But I think you didn’t abdicate your presidency because the hero in you didn’t want to leave your clients unprotected.”
“I’m not a hero, Rose. But I admit the idea of Cecil leading the board and implementing his vision for the shelter makes my blood run cold. He’s too young, not just chronologically. He doesn’t have a clue about the vulnerability of disadvantaged communities.”
Despite his protests, Rose knew Donovan was a hero. His words and actions proved it. But she’d keep his secret, if that’s what he wanted. Let him protect his alter ego.
Rose stood from her sofa. “This calls for a celebration. What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“I don’t know. What do you have in mind?”
“How about dinner, my treat?”
“Why, Ms. Beharie, are you asking me out on a date?”
Rose sensed a trap beneath Donovan’s teasing tone. “No, this isn’t a date. It’s just a friendly celebration to commemorate your victory.”
“Sounds like a date.”
“Well, it’s not.” Rose wouldn’t allow him to twist her intent. “Do you want to go out with me or not?”
“I will gladly accept your generous offer, which sounds a lot like a date.”
“But isn’t.” Rose proposed the time and location. “I’ll pick you up at your place.”
“I don’t think a woman’s ever picked me up for a date before.”
“Your record still stands because this isn’t a date, stubborn man. Are we going to do this or not?” She was torn between exasperation and amusement. Amusement was getting the upper hand.
“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow night. Sleep well, Rose.”
“You, too, Mr. President.” Rose ended the call with Donovan’s chuckle warm in her ear.
It was still early. She curled onto the sofa, setting the cellular phone on the coffee table in front of her. She was restless and excited, almost distracted with anticipation. Was she that excited over her upcoming night out with Donovan? More and more, Rose sensed the line blurring between fact and fantasy.
* * *