“If you’re so impressed with him, are you going to tell Claudia and Maxine about his past?” Tasha gave her a challenging look.
Was the other woman deliberately missing the point? “If he wants them to know, he’ll tell them. It’s not my place to.” Rose lifted her glass of iced tea. The drink was cold against her sweaty palm.
Tasha pulled one of her braids forward to toy with it. “Are you going to tell Van that I spoke with his ex?”
“I don’t keep secrets from Van. I’m sure you understand my need for complete honesty in my relationships.” Rose gave Tasha a pointed look. She was certain the other woman got her reference to her failed relationship with Benjamin.
Donovan must not want her to know that he’d once been homeless. He’d had plenty of opportunity to bring up the matter while they’d worked on the statement for the city council or when they’d had lunch almost two weeks ago. The fact that he’d kept silent must mean he wanted to keep his history a secret. Rose would respect that. She wouldn’t ask him about his past; she’d wait until he was comfortable enough to bring it up on his own.
The question was, would he ever be that comfortable with her?
* * *
“When you called, you said we had something very important to discuss.” Rose closed her front door after letting Donovan into her house on Saturday afternoon.
“Thanks for letting me come over.” Donovan walked past her to wait while she secured the door lock. Rose caught a whiff of musk and sandalwood. The scent was becoming familiar but hadn’t lost any of its appeal.
“If it’s about the statement, I’m going to follow up with the city on Monday.” She led him into her living room, stopping in front of her black faux-leather love seat.
Rose stole a quick peek at Donovan as he surveyed her sparse living room. A garnet, short-sleeved T-shirt showcased his broad back and stretched over his well-defined biceps. His pale gray carpenter shorts were tailored to his lean hips. Her eyes lingered on his long legs. His muscles flexed and stretched as he explored her living room. His tight glutes made her fingers twitch. His profile—chiseled sienna features and clean-shaven head—could make a ton of money for a men’s skin care company.
Donovan turned to her. “We need to talk about our relationship.”
“What about it?” Rose’s pulse picked up. Was he about to tell her that he’d been homeless at one point in his childhood?
Should I act casual or let him know Tasha already told me?
Donovan stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “I didn’t know where you lived until today. If your classmates knew I’d never been to your house, it would blow our cover.”
Does this mean he isn’t going to confide in me about his past? Why does that bother me?
“You’re here now.” Rose spread her arms to encompass her living room. “Would you like the nickel tour?”
She’d already vacuumed, cleaned her kitchen sink and put her laundry away. She’d even made her bed—but perhaps they’d skip that room. She glanced around her living room. How did it appear to Donovan? In comparison to the strong colors and welcoming furniture in his home, her black, white and pewter decor probably felt cold and sanitized.
“Not right now.” He approached Rose, gesturing toward the love seat behind her. “May I?”
“Of course.” Rose turned to move to the sofa.
Donovan caught her hand. “No, please join me. There’s plenty of room.” He used his hold on her hand to draw her down to the love seat beside him.
Rose blinked. He’d moved so quickly. She hadn’t expected that. She lowered her gaze. Her hand looked almost dainty in his—small and slender, nearly swallowed by his much larger palm and fingers. Donovan’s skin was so warm and a little rough to the touch. A sharp intake of breath drew his scent to her. She had the strongest urge to turn her hand and hold his, but she pulled away.
She settled into her corner of the love seat, increasing the distance between them. “Now that you know where I live, what more do we need to discuss?”
“As I’ve said, we should get to know each other better. We’re not going to pull this off if we seem like strangers.” Donovan’s hazel eyes twinkled as though he knew she was this close to moving to the sofa.
“I thought we’d been doing that with your impromptu lunch last Tuesday and dinner with my sisters on Wednesday.” Rose could still feel his skin against her palm. She fisted her hand on top of her black linen shorts.
Donovan’s gaze dropped to her lap before returning to hers. The teasing lights in his eyes had been replaced with faint curiosity. “That was general research. Now we know about each other’s bosses and coworkers, where we went to school, our childhood and our families. Surface stuff.”
Rose
frowned. “Actually, all I know about your family is that you’re an only child and both of your parents are deceased.” She hadn’t realized until her dinner with Tasha that she didn’t know anything about Donovan’s childhood at all. He was very adept at deflecting questions about his past.
“That’s really all there is to know.” Donovan grew still as though assessing a potentially dangerous situation.
Is that what it was like when you were pulling a curtain over your past? Was every personal question a possible threat? Rose couldn’t imagine living under that kind of strain.