“It would be like a vacation for you.”
Donovan leaned closer. “Some vacation, surrounded by strangers. Having my every move planned. And it’ll be football season. Will the activities be scheduled around the NFL games?”
He thought he could see steam puffing from her ears. Rose leaned into the table. Donovan was briefly distracted by her scent, vanilla and cinnamon.
She lowered her voice. “I’ll pay for our registration and hotel. All you’ll have to do is show up.”
Paying for his coffee was one thing; she was not paying for his registration or hotel. “I’ll be at your beck and call for two whole days, possibly longer. And you’re requiring a great deal of acting skill.” He faked an apologetic expression. “Like I said, you’re a very attractive woman.” Stunning, in fact. “But I don’t know if there’s any chemistry between us.”
“Are you saying that if I don’t write and submit this statement for you for free, you won’t attend my reunion with me and pretend to be my boyfriend?” Rose’s generous lips thinned as she glared at him.
“Consider it a fair trade.” Donovan spread his hands.
They held each other’s gaze for several silent moments. For Donovan, it wasn’t a hardship. He kind of liked the way her wide cocoa eyes gleamed when she was irritated. His eyes traced the delicate curve of her clenched jawline and her small, stubborn chin.
“Fine.” Rose broke the brief quiet with a huff. “You drive a hard bargain. But if you agree to attend my reunion as my devoted and love-struck boyfriend, I’ll file your statement opposing the pawnshop’s plan to locate in the Hope Homeless Shelter’s neighborhood.”
Rose extended her slender, elegant hand across the table. Donovan shook it. His much larger hand closed over her graceful fingers. The sensation of her skin, soft and warm against his, traveled up his arm and settled in his chest. He wasn’t the only one who felt something—Rose stared at their joined hands, then lifted her gaze to his. She seemed surprised.
“I should be going.” She tugged free of him. She reached into her purse as she stood. “Thank you again for meeting with me. Here’s my card. Call me Monday, and we’ll arrange to get together to discuss your brief.”
“Rose.” Donovan put a hand on her arm to detain her—and because he wanted to touch her again. “Thank you for agreeing to help us. This really does mean a lot to our clients and their families.”
Rose nodded. “Have a good weekend.” She dashed off before he could wish her the same.
Donovan watched over her until she disappeared from the coffee shop. Then he studied his hand. He could still feel her skin like warm silk against his palm. He closed his fist to hold on to the sensation a little longer. Why would a woman as beautiful, interesting and intelligent as Rose Beharie need a fake boyfriend?
* * *
On Monday evening, Rose entered the fifth-floor offices of Anderson Adventures. Her black pumps were silent as she crossed the silver-and-black carpet toward the reception desk. The cool, comfortable decor seemed very understated for a multimillion-dollar company.
The nameplate of the attractive older woman seated behind the modern, modular front desk read Sherry Parks. She gave Rose a welcoming smile. “You must be Rose Beharie. You look so much like your sister.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Sherry.” Rose offered the receptionist her hand. “My sister speaks very fondly of you.”
Iris’s description of Sherry had been spot-on. The older woman did resemble Doris Day with her pretty, wholesome features, blond bob and bright cornflower-blue eyes.
“Iris is a sweetheart. I miss seeing her every day.” Sherry released Rose’s hand. She picked up the telephone receiver and pressed a few buttons. “I’ll let Van know you’re here.”
As Sherry told Van she’d arrived for their 5:30 p.m. meeting to discuss his statement, Rose settled onto one of the gray guest chairs. She idly scanned her surroundings as she stood her briefcase on the floor beside her and balanced her purse on her lap. Despite its cool glass-and-metal decor, the reception area gave the impression of warmth and welcome.
Sherry replaced the phone. “Van’s on his way. Would you like some coffee?”
“I’d love some. Thank you.” Although Iris had warned her about the size of Anderson Adventures’ coffee mugs.
“Cream and sugar?” Sherry stood.
“Cream and sweetener, please.”
“I’ll be right back.” Sherry walked past other administrative desks, then disappeared into a back room.
Rose returned to her scrutiny of the reception area. The latest industry magazines were arranged across a tempered glass Caravan desk in the far corner. Framed covers of the company’s computer games were displayed on the eggshell walls. Interspersed with those images were candid photographs of happy employees, dating from decades earlier to present day.
“Here you are.” Sherry returned, carrying the largest coffee mug Rose had ever seen.
“If I finish this, I won’t sleep for the rest of the week.” Rose was only half joking. The silver-and-black mug looked like it held twenty ounces of coffee, at least. Rose relieved Sherry of its weight.
“The Andersons are addicted to coffee.” Sherry returned to her desk.