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“What did your parents do?”
“My father was an entrepreneur.” Donovan gave her a crooked smile, full of disarming charm. “That’s a fancy term for a one-man landscaping company. My mother was an administrative assistant with a shipping company.”
“How did they die?” Rose’s words were almost tentative.
“Cancer. Both of them.” Donovan’s response was brief and final. Rose read the message in his eyes: Don’t go there.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Rose’s response was more than words. She understood to an extent his pain. “My father died of cancer, too. My mother had a heart attack.”
Losing both of her parents so quickly had been hard. She thanked God every day that she’d had her sisters to help her through the heartache. But Donovan had been alone. Who had he leaned on to help him through such devastating losses? He was a strong person, much stronger and more substantial than the carefree persona he projected had led her to believe.
“I’m sorry.” A look of regret shifted across his handsome features.
“Thank you.” Rose stood from the sofa. “I’m sorry. I should have offered you something to drink.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“All right.” Rose started to sit back down.
Donovan captured her waist and redirected her to his lap. “I hadn’t intended for our conversation to be so somber.”
He smiled into her startled eyes. His jovial mask was back in place. Rose was glad he’d had that momentary lapse, though. She enjoyed the carefree charmer, but the brooding man of mystery also held an appeal.
Rose scowled down at him. “And by my sitting on your lap, what had you intended our conversation to be?”
“You have a very suspicious mind, Ms. Beharie.” His smile grew into a grin. He wrapped his arms around her in a loose embrace as she tried to get up.
“And you have a very obvious technique. I can hear you just fine from my end of the love seat.” Rose’s hands tightened on Donovan’s stone-like forearms, but she wasn’t in a rush to leave his lap. She felt comfortable, as though she belonged here. It was odd.
“Don’t you like to cuddle?”
“This isn’t cuddling. It’s kidnapping.” Rose crossed her arms, straining to ignore the sensation of his muscled thighs beneath her bottom. It was a struggle not to squirm against him. “You’re holding me against my will.”
“You’d call an act of physical affection a felony?” Donovan chuckled low in his chest. Rose felt the vibrations against her arm.
“This doesn’t feel like cuddling. You’re too hard.” Rose went still. Donovan’s arched brow and the glint in his wicked hazel eyes sent heat rushing up her neck to her face. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t think I do.” His voice shook with laughter.
“Your body’s too stiff.” Rose could have sunk beneath the floor.
“Really?” Donovan cocked his head. “Is that what you meant to say?”
“Just let me go.” Rose lowered her arms. She glared at him while her embarrassment burned hotter.
“I will. But first, tell me what turns you on in a man.”
“Why would I tell you that?”
“It’s something your boyfriend would know.”
“You do realize that our relationship is fake.”
“But we’re trying to convince your friends that it’s real.” He held her gaze. “Just tell me what turns you on.”
Was it her imagination or were her nipples getting hard? Please don’t let Van notice. But her prayers were probably in vain; the sexy salesman seemed to notice everything. Rose smothered a groan.
She wanted him to release her, but she was not going to play his self-indulgent games. “What turns you on? Oh, let me guess—petite, curvy women with long hair.”
