Champagne Kisses. Zuri Day
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keep me updated. And I meant what I said, Sharon. Don’t worry about work—we’ll be fine. Focus on getting better.”
Donovan ended the call and then heaved a sigh. Talk about bad timing. A couple unplanned sales trips, not to mention his increased jaunts to Louisiana, plus the festivities surrounding Diamond’s wedding had put him way behind. They were all part of the reason the Herculean task of setting up the database and then inputting the more than ten thousand potential customers for this group of exclusive wines, plus marking out business partners and naming the product—all tasks requiring the utmost confidentiality—had been pushed back to the two-week period following the wedding when the resort had calmed back down. This delay, and another inevitable interruption, otherwise known as the upcoming Fourth of July holiday, and he was pushed right up against an unmovable timeline. Attorneys, accountants, consultants and other participating third parties were all lined up, waiting and ready to put their piece of this new financially rewarding puzzle in place.
Dammit!
“Wow, it’s beautiful out here.” Donovan closed his eyes against the sound of the woman that Sharon’s call had helped put out of his mind. Marissa stood beside him as he leaned across the railing. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“It’s public property,” Donovan replied huffily. He pushed off of the railing, stuffed his hands in his pocket and moved away a couple feet.
Marissa eyed his actions in slight amazement. Was he really still simmering over what happened months ago? That she hadn’t shown up for a lousy glass of wine? She’d told him that she’d arrived at the bar and she’d told him why she had left. What else did he want from her? An apology written in blood?
The rehearsal dinner was over so the logical thing for Marissa to do was to turn around without another word and head back to the peace and quiet of her San Diego apartment. But logic had obviously gone on vacation and its nemesis, crazy, was calling the shots. So Marissa pressed forward. “The rehearsal dinner went well, and the hill is such a perfect place for the ceremony. Diamond’s wedding is going to be lovely.”
His silence was deafening.
“I would wonder whether or not you’ve been taught manners, but since I’ve met your mother, I know that answer is yes. So I can only assume you’re being a jerk, still smarting over a slight that happened months ago.” Nothing moved on the veranda, not even the wind. “I can be ignored by you all night.” How well I’m dealing with it is another story altogether. There hadn’t been a moment all evening when Marissa hadn’t been aware of Donovan’s presence, how good he looked as Jackson’s best man and how much he was admired by the other women. “Your sister is marrying my boss, which means our paths may cross on occasion. I don’t think being civil is too much to ask.”
Donovan wheeled around in a manner so uncharacteristic that Marissa took a step back. “So I’m supposed to care about what you think?” The words came out in clipped fashion; his voice was low, almost too calm.
Later, Marissa would wonder at her uncharacteristically flippant response. “You can do what you want. But I’d think that someone of your intelligence would understand when a situation is untenable. As I stated before, given who I met in the parking lot, coming in to meet you in the restaurant would have been a problem.”
“You think you’re the only one who’s had a problem with the opposite sex? You don’t get to corner the market on bad situations, and I don’t have to engage you in friendly conversation.” The words hit their mark; evidenced by the frozen expression on Marissa’s face and the hurt look in her eyes. “Look, Marissa, I’m sorry to snap at you. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“And you obviously need a lot of room to think about all of what’s on there. I’ll leave you to it.” The click-clack of her heels sounded as she made quick work of the distance between the veranda’s edge and the door. Going after her was not an option. Not only would that capture every Drakes’ attention within a one-mile radius but he wouldn’t have a clue of what to say about his brutish behavior. Obviously, he’d said too much already.
Chapter 4
The female guests had been asked to wear designs in predominate shades of purple or blue, meant to complement the brilliant cobalt sky of a picture-perfect summer day. The men had been told to dress in casual suits, shades of tan, beige or ivory preferred. Wanting her wedding to be visually coordinated in these hues, the color black had been highly discouraged. Okay, banned. All two hundred guests had complied, causing the people bouquet to match the appropriately tinted flowers: tie-dyed dendrobium orchids, irises, anemones, hydrangea, roses and million star baby’s breath. The bridesmaids wore various shades of blue or tan while the maid of honor’s dress was a rich, deep navy, which matched the best man’s suit. The groomsmen carried on the tan/beige/ivory theme, a nod to the mounds surrounding the golf course and the stone pathways that could be seen from the hill. Kathleen Fitzpatrick’s granddaughter was the flower girl, a redheaded bundle of fluffy baby-blue organza. The maid of honor’s ivory-suited son bore the rings. Both Diamond and Jackson wore dazzling white, and they looked not only amazing, but ridiculously in love. The tearjerker had been when three generations of Drakes—Diamond’s father, Donald; her grandfather David, Jr.; and her great-grandfather, David, Sr.—walked her down the aisle. The comic relief had come when Papa Dee nudged Jackson, tilted his head toward Diamond and said, “That’s one feisty filly. Best watch yourself.” No matter that the loudly whispered suggestion was only heard by the first two rows. It became the most repeated statement of the day. Best watch yourself. The temperature had been a forgiving seventy-two degrees; the greenery of the vineyard and surrounding lawns had wrapped all of them in nature’s flawless tranquility.
It was, quite simply, the most beautiful wedding Marissa had ever witnessed. That she’d gotten to see it all from the position of bridesmaid, and given the fact that Diamond’s large wedding entourage had made her role one mostly of administrative support, Marissa should have been almost as happy as the bride. But she wasn’t. Even now, the smile she wore was as pasted on as the tail of the donkey at a six-year-old’s birthday party. The banter she’d kept up for Diamond’s sake as they rode in the pimped-out golf cart (white tulle, Swarovski-encrusted canopied top, spinning hubcaps—yes, on a golf cart) that whisked them from the gazebo-covered hilltop to the dress change awaiting in the main house, was more to stifle her own thoughts than to ensure Diamond’s continued good mood.
Bottom line? Marissa was masking an emotional odor that stank to high heavens. She was, simply stated, in a funk.
Anyone watching would have had to admit she was nothing if not a trouper, prattling on while working to not become engulfed in the endless yards of Diamond’s puffy chiffon, twenty-foot court train. It didn’t matter that Diamond and her brand-new husband, Jackson, were riding in the middle row of the six-seater golf cart, directly in front of her. The train’s presence was everywhere. “Your great-grandfather was so funny, and his more seriously delivered words of wisdom were amazing,” Marissa continued, maneuvering the train and talking as if her voice would disappear if the words stopped. “What he said about the long slow walk beating a fast sprint any day—” she chuckled “—everyone listening knew exactly what that meant! I can’t believe that he’s almost a hundred years old. He doesn’t look a day over eighty, seventy even.” Even in her frazzled state of mind she thought that saying someone looked eighty didn’t sound good, even though she’d just shaved twenty years off someone’s existence. “Well, what I meant to say was—”
“It’s all right, Marissa,” Diamond said, her hand in midair to ward off the oratorical flow. “And I don’t mean to be rude. I just need to gather my thoughts and…” The sentence died on Diamond’s lips as Jackson placed his arm around her shoulders.
“Of course.” Marissa looked between her boss and Diamond and for the first time noticed a strain on her face. Considering how flawless the ceremony had gone, and given the meticulous organization of the upcoming dinner and dance, what was there to be worried about? “I’m sorry, girl, going on and on like that.” Jackson gave an almost imperceptible nod, one that Marissa caught only because he’d