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Donovan took the love seat alone. Rose settled onto the sofa. Her body language was clear: she wasn’t taking any chances tonight.
“I wanted to talk with you.” Now that he was here, the words wouldn’t come. His mind was drawing a blank on what he needed to say and how he should say it.
“You could have called.” Rose curled her long runner’s legs beneath her.
Donovan’s palm tingled with the need to caress her graceful calf. He lifted his eyes to hers. “I needed to tell you this in person.”
“What’s happened?” The concern in Rose’s chocolate eyes made Donovan feel less isolated. It was reassurance that she had some feelings for him.
“Rose, I want you to know...”
“What?” she gently prodded.
“I was homeless. My father and I. For about a year and a half. When I was eleven.” Donovan took a deep drink of his iced tea, then waited for Rose’s reaction. His tension increased with every second of silence.
“Van, I know.” Her tone was almost apologetic.
“You know?” Donovan frowned when she nodded confirmation. “How?”
“One of my classmates, Tasha Smalls, works with Whitley Maxwell.”
Donovan winced at the mention of his former girlfriend. He drew a de
ep breath, then exhaled. “It really is a small world.”
A smile eased the concern on Rose’s lovely face. “Tasha didn’t have any details. But she thought I should know.”
“How long have you known?”
“She told me about four days ago.”
Donovan did the math. Rose’s friend had told her about his past the day before they’d made out on this very love seat. His muscles pulsed again. “What did you tell her?”
“I pretended that I already knew. I didn’t want her to think we were keeping secrets from each other.”
“I’m sorry. I probably should have told you sooner.”
Rose shrugged a shoulder. “We have a business arrangement. You’re not under any obligation to share personal details of your life with me.”
“I suppose not.” Donovan stood to pace her living room. He took another long drink of iced tea.
“Tasha told me because she thought your being homeless even for a brief time in your childhood would matter to me. It doesn’t.”
“Are you sure?” He spoke over his shoulder.
“Positive. But I have to say you’ve really impressed me.”
“Why?” Donovan turned away from her fireplace and faced her.
“Look at what you’ve accomplished.” Rose spread her hands. Her eyes were wide with surprise. “You’ve already achieved a lot by becoming one of the top executives at a successful, international computer gaming company. And you’re only in your thirties. You accomplished all that despite your disadvantaged background. Your parents would be very proud of you.”
Donovan turned back to the fireplace. Her words had rocked him. He braced his hands on the mantel to keep himself upright. When he’d told the woman who’d professed to love him that he’d been homeless, she’d kicked him to the curb. But now the woman with whom he had a business relationship offered him words of encouragement and admiration.
He drew a deep breath to settle the chaos churning inside him. “I hope my parents would be proud. They were good people.”
“May I ask what happened?” Rose was uncharacteristically tentative.
Donovan faced her, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his tan shorts. “My mother had cancer. It came as a shock to our family because she took really good care of herself. She exercised, ate healthy, never smoked. Still, she contracted cancer. And despite her regular health checkups, her doctor didn’t discover the cancer until it was too late.”
