Overwhelm Me (12 page)

I cock my head to the side and gaze at Donovan, overwhelmed by his anger. I feel for this man, with all the drama he has gone through for most of his adult life. I remember seeing some of those photos in the magazines a few years back. I never paid much attention to them, just saw it as trash since it was always in Livey’s magazines. I do remember wishing they would leave him alone and let him be. I place my hand on his shoulder to show him I’m here for him, to be a shoulder for him to lean on. I feel him tense, then relax under my touch. Donovan looks at me, and his lips form a tight smile. “I’m sorry, but I think we are going to be in the gossip column tomorrow morning, and I may be sued for assault.”

“I’ll be your witness that that ass had it coming, and you were trying to protect me,” I smile shyly.

Donovan takes me in his arms and hugs me tightly. I lean my head on his chest, close my eyes, and wrap my arms around his waist. Donovan kisses me on the top of my head.

We hold each other like this for the entire ride down in the elevator, not caring who sees us.

For the eighty five second trip, we stay locked in our embrace and stay trapped in our bubble for two. Right now, there is no one here but us. As the doors open up to the lobby, we make our way outside, and awaiting us is about a dozen or so photographers and reporters. I hear Donovan gasp, then he grips me tightly around my waist. I use my flowers to cover my face so I’m not blinded by all the cameras flashing. Donovan does the same with his free hand. I hear tons of questions being thrown at us. “Dr. Callahan, who is your new girlfriend?” “Dr. Callahan, have you spoken to Claire since she’s been in prison?” “How serious are you two?” “How do you think this will affect Claire? We all know she’s still pining away for you in jail!” The last question made Donovan whip his head around and glare in the direction of a stocky African American man with a bald head and glasses. If looks could kill, the man would have died right then and there.

“I have one comment to make and that’s it,” Donovan shouts above the flock of blood thirsty animals. “I am very happy right now, more than I’ve ever been. I am done with Claire Dubois.

No more comments Now, if you’ll excuse us.” And with that, we race to his BMW so fast that the reporters are left in our dust. I still see the photos being taken of us, and I dread what the magazines will say. Now they are going to dig deeply into my background if they ever find out my name. I shudder as I slide into the car. Donovan slams his door, and we bolt out of the parking lot, nearly running down one of the photographers who was chasing us. The car’s tires screech as we turn right.

I am panting and trying to catch my breath as we weave in and out of traffic. Donovan grips the steering wheel and slams on the gas to get around a tractor trailer. I turn my head to look at him. His handsome face is distorted by the furrow in his brow, and his mouth is formed in a tight, hard line. Even when he is this angry, he is still impossible to resist. “Donovan, are you ok?” I whisper.

Donovan’s breathing is erratic, and I see his chest heaving in and out. “I wish they weren’t there.

I wish they didn’t see us. I wanted tonight to be about us and us alone. I’m sorry they ruined our evening.”

“Donovan, they didn’t ruin my evening. Yeah, maybe they put a damper on it, but I’m still with you, so I’m having a good time,” I try to reassure him. The paparazzi issue makes me nervous, though. I don’t want them finding out about my past. That’s the last thing Donovan needs right now. I put my hand on his thigh, and I see him relax a little. I also see the speed on the odometer come down.

“So, I still have those plans, that is, if you still want to go,” Donovan cuts his eyes over to me, and I grin.

“Of course I want to go, as long as I’m with you, I don’t care where it is,” I beam at him brightly.

He grasps my hand and kisses the back of it.

“It’s at my house in Sandy Springs, so it’s not far from here.” Donovan smiles as we take the 285 exit. I grin from ear to ear. I’m excited enough just to go to Donovan’s place, let alone whatever surprise he has in store for me. I lean my seat back and close my eyes, listening to Maroon 5 play their catchy song. I text Livey:

*Heading to Donovan’s. C U tomorrow *

I stick the phone back in my purse and close my eyes. I just need to rest my eyes for a second…

I must have dozed off because Donovan is lightly shaking my shoulder. “Baby doll, wake up; we’re here.” I sleepily open my eyes and stretch out my arms. I sit up and swing my legs over to get out of the car. When I step out, my eyes widen with surprise. Donovan called this a house?

It looks more like a mansion. The walkway is made of cobblestone and is lined with small path lights all the way up to the house. The place is made of grey stone with an open front porch, complete with white rocking chairs. Donovan takes my arm and leads me to the double doors on the porch.

“Do you just live here, or do other people live here with you?” There has to be other people living here. This is too much space for one man alone.

Donovan chuckles as he thumbs my lower lip. “This is all mine, baby. Only reason I have such a big house is because my family comes to visit, and we do Christmas and Thanksgiving here sometimes.”

I quiver at his touch, just now realizing how much I had missed it since the elevator, which now seems ages ago. He smirks at me, damn well knowing the effect he has on me. He tilts my chin up so I’m looking straight into his fierce blue eyes. “Come, I want to show you your surprise.”

Donovan unlocks the door and escorts me inside.

The inside is just as magnificent as the outside. The doors open to a grand foyer with shades of light and dark grey tile. The walls are painted a charcoal grey with white trim along the edges of the floor. A beautiful painting of a woman dressed in a silver ball gown is the lone piece of artwork on the walls. She looks a lot like Donovan. She has the same intense blue eyes and brown hair, the same lips and cheekbones. Donovan looks at the painting with me. “That’s my mother,” he says, answering my silent question. “She left when I was six.”

Hwith a jaw dropping grin of his own.is answer stuns me. “I thought your parents were still together.”

“Well, you asked me what my parents’ names were, and I told you. Robert and Evelyn. My real mother is Evelyn, but my stepmother is Donna.” A look of disgust forms on Donovan’s face.

Judging by the scowl, he doesn’t get along with Donna.

“Can I ask why your mom left?” I ask cautiously. I look at my man with wary eyes. How could anyone possibly leave him?

“Evelyn was an alcoholic, and when your family owns a winery, it’s not a good combo. She stayed drunk all day long. It got to the point where Megan and I were cared for solely by our nanny, Miss Chandler.” Donovan trails off. I can’t imagine the pain of watching your own mother drink her life away.

To my surprise, Donovan keeps talking. “When my dad found out she was beating us during her drunken stupors, he couldn’t take it anymore. He loved her, but he loved us more.” He looks up at the picture of his mother. “He gave her a choice, leave or go to rehab. So…she left.”

Thinking of a young Donovan being beaten and scared, of the tears he must have shed. My heart sinks, and I feel a hard lump in my throat. I don’t want to cry again, but I feel the tears stinging my eyes.

“Baby, don’t. It happened a long time ago. Let’s not think of that now.” Donovan takes me in his arms and holds me close. “The only reason I have that painting is because that’s all she left behind that was worth anything to me. It was painted long before she started drinking, and that’s how I want to remember her.” He strokes my hair, and once again, I feel safe. I raise my chin to look into those baby blue eyes, and I see him looking down at me. I smile, and he returns it, The living area is sleek and modern. The walls are painted the same charcoal grey as the foyer.

A large flat screen TV mounts the wall, and a white leather U-shaped couch with black and red pillows is seated in front of it. The floor is a slate grey, and a stark white area rug spans the floor in front of the couch. A large bay window with a bench is at the end of the living room. Beside it is a very large black bookcase, filled with medical textbooks and classic novels. I can picture Donovan seated there on the bench, staring out of the window on a rainy day.

Donovan keeps walking me toward the kitchen. I look at it in awe. It is one of the biggest kitchens I have ever laid eyes on, including the ones in Southern Living magazine. The tiles on the wall are a sky blue, almost matching Donovan’s eyes, and the glass cabinets are a brilliant white. There is a double oven and an electric and gas stovetops. The island in the middle has a single vase of yellow tulips. Wow, I could get used to having a kitchen like this to cook in. How cool would it be to make Thanksgiving dinner in here?

Donovan lets me go and walks to the fridge. He pulls out a bottle of his family’s Chardonnay and grabs two long stemmed wine glasses from the cabinet. He pulls the cork with ease and begins to pour. “I hope you like your surprise,” he says as he hands me my glass.

“I’m certain I will.” I eye Donovan as I swirl my wine around in my glass. I’m still buzzed from the bottle of wine at dinner, so I take a small sip. The wine is cool, crisp, and sweet, and it slides down smoothly.

Donovan picks up the bottle and his glass. “Come.” Donovan beams at me as he heads to the back door. “It’s out here, but first, close your eyes.”

I cock my head to the side and raise my eyebrows at him.

“Please,” Donovan begs and gives me the biggest puppy dog eyes. Oh, how can I possibly say no to this enchanting man? I humor him and close my eyes.

“Good girl,” Donovan says sweetly. He takes my hand, and I feel the warm spring breeze hit me as he opens the door. We are on a back porch or deck. He walks me a bit further and lets go of my hand. “Stay here, and keep those beautiful eyes closed.” He plants a swift kiss on my bare shoulder as he sweeps my hair back. A delicious shiver runs through me. Donovan walks a few steps and stops. I hear the flip of a switch.

“Now, baby doll, open your eyes.”

“Oh my God! How did you manage this?” I gasp as I stare at the wonder before me. His deck is lit up with little white Christmas lights everywhere. It’s so bright and whimsical. There is a table with white linen, and it’s set for two. There are another dozen pink roses laid on the table, alongside a small gift box and a plate of decadent chocolate covered strawberries. I gape at the sheer sight of it all. Donovan presses a button on the outside wall, and a sweet, slow melody pours out from speakers I can’t see. My man walks back over to me and places one hand around my waist and takes my other hand in his.

“I have a very helpful sister. Now, may I have this dance?” he asks in that voice that makes me want to combust. I beam at him, and Donovan starts to move to the song, starting a slow, sensual rhythm and taking me with him. Eric Clapton sings about how his woman looks wonderful tonight and the love light in her eyes. Donovan spins me around the deck with such grace and ease. For once, I didn’t fall on my face and even kept up with him.

The song ends, and Donovan doesn’t let me go. We stare at eachother for a moment, then he plants a kiss on my forehead. “That was so amazingly sweet. Thank you,” I breathe, my heart swelling inside my chest. “That has to be one of the most romantic things anyone has ever done for me. Well, actually, it’s the only romantic thing anyone has done for me.” I frown at the thought. I suppose I figured I wasn’t worth the effort.

Donovan rubs my cheek and says, “Baby doll, I’m just getting started spoiling you.” He tilts up my chin and kisses my nose. The gesture makes me giggle. “Let’s have some dessert.”

Donovan steps over to the table and holds out my chair for me. “I’m just glad you like roses.” He shrugs his shoulders as he pushes my seat in.

“Donovan, I love roses, especially ones from you.” I pucker my lips and wink at him.

Donovan grabs the bottle of wine and refills our glasses. “Oh, I almost forgot!” He reaches for the small box and hands it to me. “I hope you like this, too.”

I look at the tiny gift, and I have a small panic attack. What kind of money has this man spent on me in the last two days? I nervously pick up the present and carefully rip off the paper. I glance up at Donovan, who is apparently as crazy about me as I am about him. The look on his face reminds me of a child on Christmas morning, so excited to see what my reaction will be. As I reveal the box, I see it’s from Nordstrom’s.

“Another purchase on your excursion with your sister?” I run my fingertips along the black velvet box.

“Yes.” He is abrupt, and I know it’s because he is anxious for me to open it. I flip the lid, and I inhale sharply. I lift out a beautiful gold necklace with Donovan’s initials.

“So I’ll be with you, wherever you go,” Donovan says quietly, and I think I see him blushing a bit.

I jump out of my chair and nearly knock the table over trying to hug him, and Donovan almost falls out of his chair trying to catch me. I kiss him with such force it stings my lips. I straddle him, grab his hair, and feel his growing erection between my legs. That only heightens my arousal, and I start to unbutton his jacket. He groans my name and tugs on my bottom lip, making me quiver. Donovan stands and picks me up so my legs wrap around his waist.