Champagne Kisses

Passion is the spark…

An heir to Southern California’s most fabled vineyard, Donovan Drake works as hard as he plays. Betrayed by love in the past, the consummate bachelor prides himself on never committing to one woman. But Marissa Hayes isn’t just any woman. And Donovan has just two weeks to show the guarded, voluptuous beauty exactly what she’s been missing.…

Love is the flame…

Falling for her boss is number one on Marissa’s list of don’ts. But from the moment she experiences Donovan’s intoxicating touch, her heart tells her something else. Slowly but surely, his seduction is breaking down her defenses. Is their passion as fleeting as her brief stay at Donovan’s fabulous resort? Or have they found a love as timeless as the finest wine—strong enough to withstand anything, even a threat from Marissa’s past?

He held up his cup.

“To a great assistant, whose help this week has been invaluable.”

“To your family, especially the elders,” Marissa replied, her tone more serious than Donovan’s. “Whose vision made this day, and this moment.”

And just like that the moment shifted. Her words produced an awareness of who they were and where they were and what they both felt but continued to deny. Donovan’s eyes darkened as he drank in her countenance, focusing on the lips that she licked when nervous, like now. Her eyes searched his as well, noted the fast beat of his heart evidenced by the throb in his neck. She broke the stare and took a nervous sip of wine. But Donovan wasn’t willing, or able, to let the moment go so quickly. He leaned over, slowly, as if dealing with a skittish mare that might bolt from sudden movement, and placed the lightest of kisses on her forehead.

“That was beautiful,” he said, his eyes traveling once more to her lips before moving back to her.

The moment was gone, but for both of them…the memory lingered.

ZURI DAY

snuck her first Harlequin romance novel at the age of twelve from her older sister’s off-limits collection and was hooked from page one. Knights in shining armor and happily-ever-afters filled her teen years and spurred a lifelong love of reading. That she now creates these stories as a full-time author is a dream come true! Splitting her time between the stunning Caribbean islands and Southern California, she’s always busy writing her next novel. Zuri makes time to connect with readers and meet with book clubs. She’d love to hear from you, and personally answers every email that’s sent to Zuri@ZuriDay.com.

Champagne Kisses

Zuri Day

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

Do you know the history of champagne, how it is created through the second fermentation of the grape, which produces carbonation? Or how originally only the sparkling wine produced in the French region of Champagne was legally permitted to label their drink as such, which is the reason some popular labels to this day refer to their bubbly as “sparkling wine”?

Thanks to the Benedictine Monks in the Abbey of Saint Hilaire, near Carcassonne, who in 1531 filled their spare time creating a drink that calmed the mind as well as quenched the thirst, we enjoy a drink often associated with milestones and celebrations.

So please join me as I raise my glass in a toast to Donovan Drake, an heir to Drake Wines Resort & Spa, and Marissa Hayes, the woman Papa Dee calls “his even change.” I believe that you’ll feel as I do…they deserve each other’s love!

Zuri Day

Thank you, Glenda Howard! You know why.

And Samuel Lewis…you know why, too!

Of diamond dreams and champagne kisses,

Can one really have that which one wishes?

I say yes, it’s up to you…

To believe and act to make these dreams come true.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 1

Four months earlier

“Let’s go down the road and have a drink.” Drake Wines Resort and Spa co-owner and executive, thirty-two-year-old Donovan Drake, eyed his prey with a serious expression, barely stopping himself from licking his lips and releasing a groan in anticipation of how the evening might end. That was if he had his way.

His target’s eyes twinkled with humor as she contemplated the remark. “You’re asking me to leave one of Southern California’s most coveted resorts—” she waved her hand around the room “—featuring award-winning vineyards, to go somewhere else for a glass of wine?” Donovan smiled. The woman sitting across from him had a point. For the fifth year in a row, an assortment of Drake Wines had placed first in several categories at the Monterey Wine Festival, the California Beer and Wine Festival, the Vancouver Playhouse International Wine Festival and the Food and Wine Classic in Aspen, Colorado. The latter had led to an unprecedented six-page spread in the prestigious Food and Wine Magazine, a fact that had delighted his sister and director of PR, Diamond, whose wedding announcement and subsequent celebration had placed him near this dark-chocolate morsel.

“You’re right, of course. There are no better wines than those in our vineyard. But when it comes to privacy, and particularly when it comes to not having the one-and-only Genevieve Drake, otherwise known as my mother, all up in my affairs, that is something else entirely.”

“We’re just talking. Why would you care if your mother sees that?”

“Because I’m male and you’re female. That alone makes you immediately of interest where my mother is concerned.” Marissa Hayes’s look was a mix of mild confusion and skepticism. “She sees every woman her sons entertain, even in conversation, as potential marriage material. If we stay here it won’t be long before she waltzes over to begin her informal interrogation.”

“That is not how she appeared during the introductions,” Marissa countered. “In fact, considering the force of the Drake name in the wine industry and beyond, and given Diamond’s vivacious personality, I was surprised at how soft-spoken and laid-back she seems to be.”

“Don’t let those genteel manners and the velvet glove fool you. There’s an iron fist shielded inside it and a shrewd, calculating mind behind that soft smile.”

Marissa fiddled with one of her curly black locks as she took in the scenery, discreetly searching for the classy lady she’d learned was Donovan, Diamond and their younger brother Dexter’s mom. While doing so, she also took in the well-appointed great room ensconced within the luxurious walls of the Drake estate; its soft ivory silk was a perfect backdrop to the velvet-covered chaises, brocade wingbacks and low-slung sectional clothed in antique damask. The ebony and ivory keys of the baby grand anchoring the other end of the room were being tickled by a very capable pianist. The nimble fingers of the young blonde who’d been introduced as a former prodigy effortlessly blended yesterday’s sounds of Duke and Ella with today’s George Benson, Kenny G and Esperanza Spalding. When she shifted her eyes from the piano player, they landed on Donovan’s mother, a vision of sophistication in burgundy silk and silver accessories. She turned her head slightly toward Donovan and lifted her champagne flute. “I’m afraid you may be right, Mr. Drake. We’re getting ready to have company.”

Donovan didn’t have to turn around to know who was approaching. Genevieve Drake had spotted them and was making the proverbial beeline for a closer examination of the woman who had held the attention of her son for longer than five minutes.

“Ah, there you are!” Genevieve Drake’s carriage was one of pride and confidence as she reached her son and stepped in for a hug. A refined-looking lady with strong, vibrant features, long black hair streaked with gray and a slim, short frame, she exuded maternal comfort even as subtle hints of fire came through. “I think Keely did a fabulous job, don’t you?”

“I do,” Donovan said, looking around and raising his glass to Dexter, his perpetual-playboy brother holding court amid a circle of lovelies on the other side of the room. “But then again, we’d expect nothing less of Kathleen’s daughter.”

“Indeed.”

Kathleen Fitzpatrick was a longtime Drake employee whose fire was less like subtle flickers and more like a burning flame. She’d begun her employ more than twenty-five years ago, working in various capacities based on need. For the past several years she’d worked in the PR and marketing department as Donovan’s sister Diamond’s assistant. Fiercely loyal and all about family, she’d been delighted when Diamond decided to hire her up-and-coming party-planner daughter for the fete to celebrate her highly talked about engagement to construction mogul Jackson “Boss” Wright. With a nod to the month and the moment, Keely’s theme had revolved around hearts, with the symbol showing up in unique and creative ways around the room: ice sculptures; ice cubes; floral centerpieces; and, Genevieve’s favorite, the keepsake candles that would go home with each guest. The color palette boasted almost every shade of red imaginable and, paired with champagne, was at once elegant and festive.

Genevieve turned to Marissa. “Hello, dear. I’m Donovan’s mother, Genevieve Drake.”

Marissa stuck out her hand. “Marissa Hayes. Mrs. Drake, it’s a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Genevieve reached for Marissa’s hand only to pull her in for a hug. “We hug where I’m from,” she said with a smile.

“Oh? And where’s that?”

“The South. Louisiana. What about you, dear. From where does your family hail? With that beautiful brown skin, those high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes, I’d probably lean toward the islands. Would I be wrong?”

“We all landed stateside as far as I know. I was born and raised in San Diego, ma’am, where I still live.” Marissa suppressed a smile as she felt a subtle tug on her dress. She was sure it was Donovan’s way of alerting her that Detective Genevieve’s interrogation had begun.

“And your parents, they still live in San Diego as well?”

“No. My father is a minister who a few years ago was asked to become senior pastor of a prominent church in Chicago. They live just outside the Windy City in a suburb called Naperville.”

Genevieve nodded. “I’ve heard of it, but have not been there. In fact, it’s been years since I’ve visited the Midwest, including Chicago. I do love their deep-dish pizza. Donovan, what was the name of the restaurant we visited, what, ten years ago?”

“I don’t remember, Mom. But speaking of food, Marissa and I were—”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” Genevieve went on. She did a surreptitious sweep of Marissa from head to toe. “Of course, with your stunning hourglass figure, you probably stay away from such calorie-laden treats.”

“Probably not as much as I should.”

“Hmm. I must say it is wonderful to talk with someone without having to look up continually. All of my children took after their father in that regard. What are you, five-three, four?”

“Okay, Mom. Let’s not continue this round of twenty questions.”

“How else does one get to know their guests?” Genevieve asked dryly with raised brow.

Marissa chuckled. “Really, Donovan. It’s okay.” Looking at Genevieve, she continued, “I understand completely. I’m five foot four and also the shortest one in my family, not counting my cousins or my nephew, who just turned two.”

“Ha!” Genevieve’s twinkling eyes signaled how much she was enjoying the conversation. “So you have siblings.”

“A brother, who is older than me. He and his family live in Baltimore, Maryland, where his wife is from.”

Donovan cleared his throat. Marissa hid another smile behind a sip of sparkling chardonnay, a Drake Wines favorite. Genevieve barreled on determinedly. “How do you know Diamond, dear?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure of really getting to know her yet. I work for Boss Wright as his executive assistant.”

“Really?” Genevieve didn’t try to hide her surprise or heightened interest. “How long have you worked for him?”

“Okay, Mom. I think that’s enough for one evening.”

“I’m simply curious that someone as beautiful as this young lady didn’t try and snap up one of the country’s most eligible bachelors for herself.” She turned still-sparkling eyes on Marissa and lowered her voice as if they were two longtime pals. “Or did you?” She winked, letting Marissa know that she was teasing, and continued talking, as if trying to get under her eldest son’s skin.

It was working.

Donovan didn’t think for one minute that his shrewd mother was joking. He believed he knew the questions his mother wasn’t asking: Had Marissa ever been interested in Jackson Wright? Had Jackson ever been interested in Marissa? Had Jackson and Marissa ever slept together? If so, why? If not, why? Was Donovan interested in Marissa? And if so, how fast could Genevieve do a background check?

“You know what they say about curiosity,” Donovan drawled, gently taking his mother’s shoulders and steering her away from Marissa. “It killed the cat.” He kissed her on the top of her head. “We’re going to check out the dessert buffet,” he offered, to keep his mother from feeling totally dismissed.

“Enjoy your evening,” Genevieve said over her shoulder to Marissa. “We’ll talk again.”

After Donovan had deposited Genevieve into the safe and capable hands of his father, Donald, he returned to where Marissa still stood. “Now you understand why I want to sample another vineyard’s wines.”

“Completely.”

“So what do you say? Inland Empire Winery, Rancho California Road, fifteen minutes?”

Marissa smiled, and gave a nod. “I’ll meet you there.”

Chapter 2

Donovan watched Marissa wind her way through the crowd and over to where Jackson and Diamond stood. Later, he’d explain to his sis and brother-in-law-to-be why he didn’t make his proper goodbyes. Diamond would understand. As with the brothers, she too had borne the brunt of Genevieve’s desire to expand the clan and bounce grandchildren on her knee as soon as possible. One would think that with Diamond’s wedding on the horizon the pressure would have lessened. Instead, her impending nuptials had created the opposite effect, especially where he was concerned.

“You’re the oldest,” Genevieve had chided the morning after Jackson proposed to Diamond. “I never thought I’d see the day where your sister beat you at anything.” Despite their competitive nature, this was one race Donovan had gladly lost to a sibling. He’d happily get beaten by Dexter, too, though hell would have probably frozen over and Armageddon made itself known before baby brother ended his Don Juan ways. In an attempt to throw off an undoubtedly still curious Genevieve from his trail, Donovan walked in the opposite direction as Marissa, joining his brother and the circle of female admirers that surrounded him. After another minute or two, he slipped out a side door, doubled back through the garden, around the infinity pool and into the parking lot. Bypassing his Mercedes—because if she noticed his car missing Detective Genevieve would undoubtedly ask what type of car Marissa owned—he walked the cobblestoned path to the company garage and settled into a company car. After retrieving the car keys that were always stowed in the overhead visor, he eased the Lexus hybrid out of the garage and was on his way.

The night was cool and the stars bright and vibrant as he made his way down the private winding road of the Drake Resort before turning left onto Rancho California Road and the short drive to his destination. He reached the neighboring winery, with which the Drakes maintained a friendly rivalry; parked near the front; and, bypassing the restaurant, opted for the less formal tasting bar. On this, the Saturday before Valentine’s Day, it was only moderately crowded. The bartender greeted Donovan by name, served up a deep-bodied cabernet franc and placed a bowl of salty nuts and pretzels within easy reach. After allowing a moment for the wine to breathe, Donovan picked up the glass, swirled its contents and thought of Marissa Hayes.

He’d noticed her the moment she’d arrived at the party. He’d seen the delicious smile she gave the valet as she exited her car and received her ticket. Donovan had been standing near the door, having just returned from escorting his great-grandfather—the family patriarch—from the north wing of the ten-thousand-square-foot home to where the festivities were being held. David Drake, Sr., a ninety-nine-year-young fountain of ever-spouting wisdom, whom everyone fondly called Papa Dee, had noticed her, too. His surprisingly clear eyes had gleamed with mischief when he said, “That’s a fine filly there, Donovan. An old man won’t fault you for abandoning me in favor of taking that youngling for a ride.” Donovan had laughed off the comment, but the short, stacked, brown bombshell rocking the forest-green, velvety-looking dress and stiletto heels had not only captured his attention, but she maintained it throughout the course of the evening.

He knew who she was, had remembered her from a few months earlier and the gala that celebrated the official opening of Drake Wines Resort and Spa. That’s how Diamond had become acquainted with Jackson, when his construction company, Boss Construction, won the bid to transform the twenty-five-year-old facility. It had been totally renovated and expanded to include a boutique hotel with a separate honeymoon house on the hill, a stand-alone gift shop and wine store and a world-class spa offering everything from massages to mud baths along with a full-service salon. All of this sat on more than five hundred acres of rolling hills and sterling grapevines. It was set against the mountainous backdrop of Temecula, a perfect place for weddings and the site for his sister’s upcoming nuptials.

His interest had been piqued that first time he’d seen Marissa, and he recalled the way his heart had clenched at the sight of her while something decidedly lower had also bobbed its amen. He remembered the way she’d offered a coy smile before glancing away from his intense gaze and how a jolt of electricity had accompanied their handshake. Most important he remembered the way that no matter how hard he tried all evening, he seemed to not be able to corner her; less than an hour into the party he’d found out she’d already left. Something about an upset stomach, Jackson had said. Upon finding out that she was gone, he’d shrugged off the attraction, hadn’t given her a second thought. Until tonight. But ever since he’d seen her tonight, he knew that her slipping through his fingers again was not an option. Not the way she was swinging that hair and wearing that dress, with a body so vivacious it should have come with a warning sign. Dangerous Curves Ahead.

Donovan looked at his Rolex and then watched as the brother who was also at the bar finished his drink and passed a business card to the blonde seated between them before he walked out the door. The blonde turned to Donovan.

“What a jerk,” she said as she tore the business card in half before offering him a flirty look. Donovan gave her an understanding smile before turning his chair to face the bar’s liquor-covered shelves. He was sympathetic but not interested. Not tonight anyway. It had now been twenty minutes since Marissa had promised to meet him in fifteen. Leaning back in the comfy bar chair, he took another slow, deliberate sip of wine. His mother had taught him that anything worth having was worth waiting for. Donovan Drake was nothing if not a patient man.

* * *

Marissa pulled into the parking lot, her heart thumping with excitement. It seemed forever ago that she’d even consider giving a man her phone number, let alone meeting one for a drink. Her employer, Jackson, and anyone else who knew her would consider the night’s actions quite unlike her. But there was something about Donovan Drake that seemed different from the average man, something that made her feel safe and protected. He exuded a type of authority that you could only be born with, yet had a way of making you feel comfortable in his presence. Oh, and there was that minor detail about him being very good-looking. Not in a pretty-boy way like Trey Songz or Boris Kodjoe, or even in a Dayum! sort of fashion like his tall, hunky brother, Dexter. No, Donovan’s good looks were as much from what was within as the package without.

This is why she’d ignored the fact that at the moment, she wasn’t supposed to be interested in the opposite sex, that after the betrayal she’d endured from a so-called friend, work and continuing her education were the only two things that were supposed to have her attention. But the smile currently on her face had nothing to do with executive assistant work or landing a graduate degree in business administration, and everything to do with a tall, strapping male, one she’d thought of intermittently since being introduced to him months before. Then, as now, there had been nothing about the six-foot-tall, broad-shouldered sculpture of brown sugar that she hadn’t liked. Not his smoldering cocoa eyes, his juicy lips, his wide, thick eyebrows or that hint of a cleft that kissed the middle of a strong jawline. Nothing. This was probably why her heart raced as though she was on a first date. She felt she could fall in like with Donovan Drake very easily. She’d already fallen in lust.

“Let’s go, Marissa,” she encouraged herself. “It’s only a drink.” With one last look in the mirror and a quick sprucing up of her curly, shoulder-length tresses, Marissa got out of the car, got halfway between the parking lot and the tasting room door…and froze.

“Well, well, well.”

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Her heartbeat was so loud it almost drowned out the voice she’d hoped to never hear again. At least not for a few lifetimes. Unfortunately this pitter-patter had nothing to do with the man for whom she lusted and everything to do with one she despised.

“Hello, Marissa.”

Figuring the faster she’d speak, the faster he’d leave, her lips parted. “Hello, Steven.”

“You’re looking good.”

Any comment she would have offered, if it existed, would have had a hard time squeezing past the tightness in her throat. The greeting had been hard enough.

Steven eyed her a moment longer before turning to look through the window at the wall-length bar just beyond them. Marissa immediately saw Donovan talking to the bartender. On one side of him was a tanned man with dark hair and a mustache; a blonde woman sat on his other side. A couple walked up and took two seats on the short side of the L-shaped counter. “Which one of them are you here to meet?”

Marissa swallowed her discomfort, squared her shoulders and tried to not show how totally uncomfortable she was seeing her former best friend again.

“I’ve purposely stayed away from Long Beach and certain areas of San Diego so that I don’t have to see you. And now, I find you conveniently in between the two at the exact same time as I am. Are you stalking me?”

Steven laughed, the sound sinister and hollow. When he replied, his eyes were cold. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Then how did you find me, Steven?”

“I wasn’t looking for you. Antonio’s band has a gig out this way. Not that it’s any of your business.” They continued eyeing each other a moment. “I see you still believe that bull those strangers told you.”

“That’s right. I still believe it. And I still meant what I said when it happened. If I have another confrontation with you, if you harass me in any way, I will get a restraining order.”

Steven shrugged. “You do whatever you feel you need to do. Handle your business, because I’m definitely going to handle mine.”

Marissa took a deep breath and tried another approach. “You know what, Steven? Somewhere inside you is a nice person. I knew him once. In fact, we used to be friends.”

“That good man is still right here,” Steven said with that boyish smile Marissa remembered. “In fact, that good man still wants to take our relationship to the next level. I’ve already seen you,” he said cockily, with a long, lascivious visual sweep of her body. “Might as well let me tap that—”

“That’s enough,” Marissa hissed between gritted teeth. She found the nerve of this former best friend infuriating. She wanted to lash out, curse him out. Remembering the darker moments of their shared history, she chose to stay calm and keep her wits about her.

And just in time, as it turned out.

“Which one of those jerks are you screwing?” Steven demanded, his brow creased in anger as he pointed toward the glass. “Which one did you offer on a silver platter what I couldn’t beg you out of? I told you I’d deal with whoever came between us.”

That’s right. He had told her, that last night they were together, the night that changed everything. It was why she hadn’t gone on a date in a very long time. It wasn’t worth putting a potential new friend at risk. The Steven McCain she’d known since college had been smart, funny and trustworthy. Or so she’d thought. Until that fateful night he’d tried to take their friendship to another level. By any means necessary. That’s when she’d begun to believe he might not be as nice as he’d seemed. Or as sane.

She looked from him to the window, saw Donovan glance at his watch. Dang it, I don’t even have Donovan’s cell phone number. But she had common sense, and she knew that to go in now, to get anywhere near Donovan, would not only result in an altercation, but would tell the lunatic standing in front of her more than he needed to know. Reluctantly, she turned back to her car. “Stay away from me, Steven,” she threw over her shoulder.

“My phone number is the same, Marissa, and you need to use it. Let’s get together, just to talk, I promise.” She kept on walking. “Remember I can blow the cover on that goody-two-shoes image you’re boasting.”

Marissa ignored him, got into her car, started the engine and sped away.

* * *

Donovan was getting just a bit antsy. Not at the fact that he might have been stood up, no, he’d seen the look of interest in Marissa’s eyes. And more than that, for some reason he felt she was a woman of her word. He definitely knew what the other type of woman looked like, the one who would say one thing and do another, the one who wouldn’t know the meaning of such words as honor, truth or integrity unless looked up in a dictionary. It had been a half hour since they’d parted. Should he entertain the remote possibility that she’d gotten into an accident? It seemed unlikely considering the short distance she would have traveled. Or could it be something much more likely, such as her having been sidetracked by someone at the party, like his mother?

Donovan’s eyes shifted from the window to the door, and he noticed the cocky-looking dude who’d been flirting with—translated, harassing—the cute blonde at the end of the bar watching a pair of taillights speed out of the parking lot. The man watched the car, a silver sporty number, as it turned onto the street, all the way until it was out of sight. Then he confidently walked to his black sedan and sped off, as well.

Donovan turned back to the bar and finished his wine. Then he reached for his phone and called his soon-to-be brother-in-law. “Boss, it’s Donovan. I’m looking for Marissa.”

“She’s not with you?”

“No. I thought she might have gotten sidetracked and was talking to either my mother or Diamond.”

“No, man, she left about fifteen, twenty minutes ago. She mentioned meeting you and told me she’d see me in the morning.”

An uncomfortable feeling came over Donovan as he turned back toward the parking lot. The scene he’d just witnessed replayed in his mind. “What kind of car does she drive?”

“A little two-door Honda Civic.”

“What color?”

“Silver, why?”

“Because I…never mind.”

“Donovan, wait—”

But he didn’t. Donovan ended the call, paid the tab and left the establishment. He’d bet money that it was Marissa’s car he’d seen leave the parking lot and figured that she knew the cocky dude no doubt now hot on her trail. The identity of the man was not important, nor did Donovan care what business Marissa had with him. The only thing that was important was the fact that she’d left without coming in to see him.

There was one thought on Donovan’s mind as he thanked the bartender who’d waved away his attempt to pay him. One thought as he exited the establishment, tightened his collar against the cool air and walked to his car. How could I have so misjudged her? He would have bet money that Marissa Hayes was not fickle or shallow like so many of the women Dexter dated, and totally unlike the last woman he’d trusted with his heart. He would have bet money, big money.

Yes, and you would have lost.