Passion Play

“I’m so sorry.”

“So am I.” Donovan cleared his throat. His mother had died twenty-five years ago. Still sometimes it hurt as if it was yesterday. “My father thought we had good health insurance, but it wasn’t good enough. After two years of treatments, my mother died and we were left with a lot of debt.”

Restless, Donovan moved away from the fireplace to continue pacing Rose’s living room. “It was hard on my father, taking care of me and my mother. It was too much. He lost his landscaping business.”

Rose gasped. “That’s horrible.”

“Yes, it was.” Donovan turned away from Rose’s sound system and walked toward her bay window. “It took a while, but with the help of strangers, my father was able to get back on his feet. Things were never the same after my mother died, though. They’d been high school sweethearts and very much in love.” Donovan stopped and stared out the window at the gathering twilight.

He didn’t hear her leave the sofa, but Rose’s reflection appeared beside his in the window. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and rested her cheek on his back between his shoulder blades. The soft weight was comforting, healing.

“Your parents were very impressive people.” Her words were just barely audible. “They would be proud of the man you’ve become, all that you’ve accomplished and of what you’re giving back to the community.”

It wasn’t his imagination. He was falling in love with Rose Beharie—if he hadn’t already fallen.

Donovan turned in her embrace. Rose dropped her arms and stepped back. Her chocolate eyes were soft with compassion, warm with admiration and bright with curiosity. His gaze sought her mouth. Her soft, pink lips parted slightly. His need to taste their fullness was like a fever. His muscles ached with the urge to pull her to him, lower his mouth to hers and drink her sweetness.

But it was the compassion in her eyes that kept him at a distance. When he kissed her—and he fully intended to kiss her again—he wanted to taste her passion, not her pity.

“Thank you.” Donovan forced his legs to carry him past Rose and back to her fireplace.

“Is your experience the reason you volunteer with the homeless shelter?”

“Yes.” Donovan met Rose’s eyes over his shoulder. “But I don’t know how much longer I’ll be on the board.”

“What would make you say that?” Rose stepped closer.

Donovan crossed his arms over his chest and faced her. “One of the junior members of the board is preparing to challenge my presidency. He and I have very different visions for the shelter. If the board agrees with his vision, I don’t think I could stay.”

“That would be a shame.” She placed her hand on his bicep. “But whatever you choose to do, I know you’ll make your parents proud.”

Donovan gazed down into her beautiful eyes. What kind of man would make Rose Beharie proud? He needed to know because he wanted to be that man.

Chapter 10

Donovan stood at the podium in the Hope Homeless Shelter’s community room on Thursday night. Medgar, Salma and Kim thought it had been a mistake to wait nine days before calling this special meeting of the board of directors. They’d argued the delay gave Cecil more time to persuade members to support him as an alternative to Donovan. Perhaps they were right.

He was taking a calculated risk. Donovan wanted to finish his term. However, he needed to know where the other members stood. He wanted them to have the opportunity to consider their options. Did they share his vision for the shelter or did they find Cecil’s ideas more attractive? He hoped tonight he’d have the answers to his questions.

“Good evening, and thank you for coming.” Donovan waited for the other twenty-four board members to quiet down before he continued.

Cecil was seated in the front row. Medgar, Kim and Salma sat apart from him toward the center of the audience.

The best defense is a strong offense. How many times had his father reminded him of that?

Donovan rested his hands on the podium’s smooth, cool wooden surface and held Cecil’s gaze. “Some of you have a different goal for the shelter than I do. And you want to work toward that goal now. Isn’t that correct, Cecil?”

The look of surprise that crossed Cecil’s soft, round features would have been humorous if the situation wasn’t so serious.

Cecil slid forward on his chair. “You’re right. You and I disagree on several things, including the pawnshop. I believe that the area needs more businesses, not less.”

Had Cecil been misrepresenting his position to the other board members? That wouldn’t surprise him.

“I don’t believe we need fewer businesses in the community. We need the right ones.”

“And what would your definition of right be, Mr. President?” Cecil stood and looked around the room, drawing the other members’ attention to him.

Donovan glanced toward Medgar, Kim and Salma. They wore various expressions of disgust at Cecil’s display. Kim rolled her eyes.