Fake It Till You Bake It(78)

The ball was in her court. He wasn’t going to pressure her. He’d laid out his position. How she responded was up to her. Though there were cameras trained on them, this kiss was for them. Only for them. Last night didn’t have to be a fluke.

Jada lifted her hand and curved it around the back of his neck while she rose on her toes. The first touch of his lips sent a sigh cascading through her body. Or maybe that was the sound she made. His lips tasted better than she remembered, and she had a crystal-clear memory.

Her eyes drifted open as the kiss came to an end.

“How was that?” he murmured against her lips.

She pretended to give the question serious thought. “A strong nine out of ten.”

He slapped a hand across his chest. “Wow. Okay. A dagger to the heart, but I can take it.”

“I was thinking we need a little more practice.”

Donovan made a face. “Really? I think I’m gonna go home and chill for the rest of the evening. Work on my kissing skills. Alone.”

Jada tilted her head to the side. “Oh, really? Yeah, me too. Actually, I don’t need to. My skills are on point.”

“Eh.” He waved his hand back and forth, a smile playing at his lips. “They’re all right. But you know, my house is kinda quiet, and I’ve kinda gotten used to having a talkative woman around. One who’s never afraid to express her opinion and doesn’t give a shit about sparing my feelings.”

Jada rolled her lips inward to keep a smile from taking over her face. It was going to take some time to get used to these warm and fuzzy feelings he inspired in her. “Really? She sounds cool. I’d like to meet her.”

“You remind me of her, actually.” He snapped his fingers as though some profound idea had just occurred to him. “Hey, would you like to come over? Just to keep that momentum going of having an opinionated woman around. I’d be cool with that.”

“What woman can resist an invitation like that?”

“I’m hoping one who realizes how much I enjoy spending time with her and don’t want this day to end.”

Her heart melted. Damn, he could be charming when he wanted to be. She’d think he’d been taking lessons from Nicholas, but bullshitting wasn’t Donovan’s way. If he said it, he meant it. And the absolute certainty of that made her heart skip a couple of beats. She grinned. “I’d love to.”



* * *



Jada’s phone trilled out a peppy greeting. Donovan smiled. The ringtone was so Jada.

They’d arrived at his house a few minutes ago and settled on his sofa.

She pulled the phone out of her purse, checked the screen, and blew out a breath. “Sorry. I have to take this.” She didn’t look or sound thrilled by the prospect.

“Hello,” she said, injecting some clearly fake cheer into her voice. She stood and moved a few feet away, but he could still hear her side of the conversation. Not that she was doing much talking. Mostly “yes” and “no” and “mmm.” Whoever was on the end was clearly directing the chat.

She sighed and dropped her head into her free hand. He didn’t like her body language. Stooped shoulders. Defeated. That was not the Jada he knew. The Jada he was coming to … care for.

“I don’t—” she started, then quieted. Her shoulders squared. “Right. Yes, of course. See you soon.”

“You all right?” he asked after she ended the call with a pointed stab of her finger at the poor, defenseless phone screen.

Her lips stretched into a smile that more closely resembled a tortured grimace. “Guess who’s coming to dinner.”



* * *



The look of bewilderment on Donovan’s face would have been funny if her life wasn’t a classic comedy of errors.

He rose from the sofa and drew her into a hug. “What are you talking about? Are you okay?”

She dropped her head forward on to his strong chest and inhaled the fresh cotton scent of his shirt under the smells of vanilla and chocolate and sprinkles, scents that now signaled comfort. “Never better.”

Donovan rubbed her back. “Somehow I doubt that. Who do I have to beat up, or at least have a stern talking-to?”

That prompted a more genuine smile out of her. She sighed. “That was my father, with my mother making a special cameo appearance.”

“I see,” he said, his voice indicating that he did, in fact, understand the seriousness of the situation. “What did they want?”

She leaned back to look up at him. “My parents, or rather, several of my parents’ business associates, saw us on Good Day, San Diego and burned up the telephone lines to ask my parents about our relationship.”

“Oh,” he said, blinking, clearly not expecting that response.

“Yes. Oh.” Jada wheeled and began to pace around the living room. “My parents are morally opposed to feeling uninformed in any and every situation and were thusly embarrassed. Not knowing something, whether they actually care about it or not, is tantamount to evil to them. They’re scientists and enjoy knowledge. They were further appalled to learn that your mom has met me, while they have not met you. Their friends were thrilled to show them photos of your mom from her visit to the shop that ended up on social media.”

That simply would not do. They didn’t care about Donovan or any relationship she found herself involved in, but not knowing about it when someone asked—that was the sin. “You have been commanded to accompany me to Grams’s birthday dinner.”